Risk
by Bright Eyed
Summary: The Companies play a game of Risk, the city their board, the people the pieces. But in this game, the pieces play for their lives; and some are not such docile cows. NXS & KXH
1. One

**Risk.**

The Companies play a game of risk, the city their board, the people the pieces. But in this game, the pieces play for their lives, and sometimes, when they're pushed too hard, they fight back.

**Just close all the windows beforehand and try to remember that you can't fly.**

**.**

**.**

**(Epiphany) **

**I watch the moonlight stream. Oh, it flows. I gaze down at my hands; broad planes of smooth clear skin, neither blemished nor tarnished by work or sun, or experience. With too-pale pearl skin and slender, weightless fingers they are a child's hands; entirely too new to this hard, delivering earth. I feel myself fill, slowly at first, until reaching a bursting crescendo over my hollow, ready vessel. **

**It is time.**

**Time to let go.**

**Let flow.**

**I take a deep breath, in—out.**

**And I shudder an earthquake that splinters the dam of my expectations for my life into a million unobtrusive boulders of skill, or lack thereof. These only time will erode; with the steady flow of power now coursing through my body; I glow, I radiate this pure lifeblood into the air surrounding me, hidden in this quiet place with only this new, rushing raw power as witness. **

**Oh, sweet release.**

**I gasp, moan inside, and grip my knees.**

**The power surge ebbs slightly, allowing me to crack my eyes open, focusing slowly and desperately through parted lashes, I shiver as to my vision.**

**I see it.**

**Everything.**

**It flows.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**1: **

I close my tired eyes. Somewhere in the small pack next to me, my phone begins vibrating again. Damn, what is it, the thirteenth call? I reach a numb hand into the depths of my rucksack and pull out the shining, brand-new, top of the line, worthless piece of shit.

The name on the screen gives me shivers. Itachi. So the search was on then.

Sooner than expected. I check my watch. Less than twelve hours after my little disappearing act. Last time they had started more than ten hours later. Now they know better. I'm not going back, not of my own volition, no way in hell. I turn the thing off: that's another thing I learned quickly. My brother is not afraid to track me.

Throwing the near-priceless junk against the most merciless cement wall I can find, along with my immaculate Rolex, I pick up my sack, pull out a protein bar, and stalk away from the alley. I can already hear the sirens wail after me as I slip between sinister, cavernous buildings along the maze of alleys. I am no child this time. They thought I had been broken, last time. They thought I was just going to take whatever they gave me silently and gratefully. Not this bitch.

As I walk, I pull the liquid silk button-down I'd been forced into over my head, adding it to the piles of litter already crowding the narrow alley.

Tearing a bite from the bar, I let my mind slow as I munch through the cardboard. What now?

After significantly losing myself among the winding inner city streets, I pick a nice, quiet place to hunch over and think of my next move.

Honestly, I'd never gotten this far before. Usually, I'd made some lethal mistake or another, walking into too-public places, or keeping any sort of technology with me, or going to 'friends' houses. That was another hard lesson learned young; there is no such thing as a true friend. At least, not when you have money. Not in this penniless city. I rub my blurring eyes before remembering how dirty my hands are. Ugh. Pulling out hand-sanitizer, I look into the brightening sky.

If I could say I loved anything, anything at all, it is the dawn. But dawn also means greater visibility. So what to do? Where to go? I need cover, and fast.

I bite my lip, finding it painfully chapped. If I'm going to survive, no, thrive as an 18 year old runaway with a brother of endless resources chasing me, I have to do the unexpected. Not only that, but I have to get out of Konoha. I can't do anything when brother could have the entire police force after me at once.

There is no room to breathe with two Uchiha men in the same area. We weren't meant to live all together; for fear that we'll suffocate each other. That's why I have to leave. It's either leave or die stunted and small under the enormous shadow of Sharingan Co and all its implications.

Somewhere in the distance, dogs howl. My eyes, unknowingly closed, shoot open. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. I get up from my temporary rest, hastily gathering my bag and my composure. I have to run, now. Picking up speed, I silently thank my dead father for the only good thing he'd ever really given me: long ass legs.

I pray for rain. I keep to the stagnant puddles, instantly freezing myself as the dirty water leaks into my handcrafted Italian shoes. But I have to keep running. Even though there was no escape, the howling increasingly closer, I have to run. Before I realize it, my feet are sprinting, my breath coming in ragged gasps, desperate for air, or face explosion. I run until I can't run anymore, then just keep going. I run until I swear I feel the alveoli pop one by one in my chest. I run until the stitch in my side devours my entire torso.

Then I stop. Under me, my knees buckle and I find myself staring at the street, mere inches under my nose. My heart beats so loud, I can't hear the dogs anymore. After an eternity, more time than I can afford, I wake up to my surroundings.

I am disgracefully out in the open, at a dead-end intersection. Subtly looking down both streets for possible witnesses, I stalk into the store directly in front of me, not seeing or caring what it is.

Only an empty foyer. If it's an abandoned building, I'm set. It looks dilapidated enough, empty of any furniture, trash everywhere, torn wallpaper. A perfect hideout until sundown. I lock the door behind me, dropping my bag, by now a sack of rocks, and set about searching every inch of the room for anything potentially dangerous or occupied.

Something else I learned, people are everywhere in this city. There is no such thing as being completely free of them. Even now, at what must be close to five in the morning I can hear them beginning to mill about in the street outside. I repress a shudder. I have at least a few hours now, before they catch up to me. I look at my naked wrist for a long, hard second before remembering the fate of all my gadgetry.

So the room seems empty: a miracle, by anyone's standards around these parts. I would be just fine here, at least for a little while, maybe I could scrape a couple hours sleep… burrowing myself deep into the corner of a crevice in the wall, undetectable from the entrance, I sleep violently.

I wake to rustling. My heart instantly takes the excuse to slam into my throat, and carefully, oh so carefully, I peek around the corner. Nothing. Must be rats. I chuckle softly at my own insane paranoia.

Then the door magically unlocks.

Then a man comes in.

I am so screwed.

I pull out my pocketknife with fingers I'll never admit are trembling. Running a thumb over the pearly white 'U' in its heart for luck, I prepare for the ambush. At least I know how to fight. The man in the doorway sighs heavily. I take the opportunity to take in precious oxygen, realizing I had stopped breathing.

This is my chance. The figure is turned around, checking the locks on the door; I make ready to pounce.

"Don't you even _think_ of coming at me with that little knife, kid."

My heart stops beating. I reveal myself: really the only thing to do in this situation.

The man is not one of my father's hunters. His eyes are bright with something I haven't been exposed to in a very long time: kindness. In truth it makes me a little nauseated.

My eyes, once he steps out of the extreme silhouette, are instantly drawn to the brutal scar slashed across the man's face, cutting it lengthwise across the nose. I immediately size him up. He doesn't seem such a big threat, a several inches shorter than my 6'2 height, tan skin with similarly colored eyes and pulled-up coffee hair. He gives me a blinding smile. I scowl.

"Get out of here." My voice sounds like a grunt.

His is nearly musical, "Kind of difficult, seeing as this is my shop."

I snort, unable to help myself, "Shop? This place is a shithole." His resounding laugh surprises me; I hate how he enjoys the expression on my face.

I make sure to deadpan as he speaks, "Aha! Now I know for sure that it works." Grinning like a fool, he walks fearlessly past me, to the niche opposite mine. There, he knocks on the wall three times, pauses, and knocks again once. Before my eyes, the wall splits along some invisible seam, opening wide for its owner. To my even greater surprise, a child's face peeks out.

"Ah! Iruka! Its good you're here, that old-ass scarecrow's freaking the crap out of us. Moegi's already almost started crying twice! I almost threw up my dinner!" The little boy, a tattered blue scarf around his neck, turns hateful brown eyes onto me. I glare back full strength, not about to take shit from a kid, and he, shock, sticks his tongue out.

My glare has never been rebuked before. With eyes as black and cold as polar winters, a familial trait, most grown men find themselves unconsciously or otherwise backing away at my angry gaze. I intensify the abhorrence in my eyes; a tendril of frustration leaking out as he only rolls his eyes at me.

I hate kids.

"Who's this asshole?"

"Konohamaru!" The man called Iruka smacks the kid hard, "That's two for the swear jar, and I'll eat that candy I'd saved for you myself!" Iruka ignores the yowls of protest from the boy and turns towards me, "You wanna come in?"

I stare him down, thinking hard. I look away from his equal, and kind, stare.

Ah, fuck me.

"You don't really have much of a choice, do you?" He smiles at me. I hear, fainter than the wind, the barking of dogs. How could he have known?

Grunting ungracefully, I follow him into the darkness, knife still clutched tightly in my hand.


	2. Two

**2:**

**.**

**.**

She sighs wistfully, large pale eyes fluttering dreamily closed against the dawn. Her hair, the exact color of the night sky, quivers shyly in the tugging breeze. She leans over the pearly railing of the balcony, gripping the bar with white-knuckled hands. I remove my hands from my pant pockets to reside safely in those of my old leather jacket. Today is the day she will notice me.

I take a rattled breath, letting the smoke from my splif cool my head. Readying myself, I take one step and, of course, immediately stumble over a box in the street. I curse out loud. Fuck. Kicking the shit angrily as far as I can, I bite my lip hard. Too hard: my sharp canine splits the skin.

Fearfully turning my eyes upwards, my worst nightmare is suddenly realized. She's looking at me. She is finally seeing me, but what she sees is an embarrassment. She'd seen me stumble; she'd seen me have my fit. Fuck. A tiny smirk and a curt nod is all I can muster before rushing away and—bam! Stumbling over the same goddamn box. AHH.

This is so messed up.

My cool walk-by glance, the one I'd been planning for a week, was ruined. Instead she got some foul-mouthed street rat with a bloody lip kicking shit around in front of her balcony.

As soon as get far enough away, I crouch low behind a building to go over the tragedy again for possible alleviants. Nothing can satisfy me. Bumping my stupid head hard against the brick wall behind me, I get up, take a nice big drag, and walk to my next job.

I would fix things tomorrow morning. Tomorrow, I would wear those jeans that hugged my ass and parade across the street and maybe, just maybe, toss her a wink. Yes, that would fix it.

I wasn't obsessed. It wasn't a creepy thing; just…I was just, just, transfixed. Entranced. Enchanted. I couldn't tear my eyes away from her. And not just because of her quiet beauty, not just because of her shy grace, not even because of her porcelain innocence, but because of the peaceful energy she emits, her occasional small smile, the way she sighs wistfully into the understanding sky.

I want to know everything and anything about her. Tossing the used-up roach aside, I open the door of my sister's pet shop and veterinary clinic.

Upon entering I shiver at the cold force before me.

"You. Are. Late. Again, Kiba! This is the third time this week!" Her slitted eyes watch me like I'm scared prey (not entirely untrue). "I should fire your ass."

I try my famous grin, "But sis, you know you can't do that!"

She stalks dangerously close, I find myself backing away, "And just why the hell not?"

"W-well, 'cause you know your dear little bro is just—irreplaceable."

As she opens her mouth, probably to spit acid at me, I'm saved. Bounding in just in time, the great white beast practically topples her over in his excitement.

"Akamaru!" Pounding giant paws on my shoulders, the mutt begins attacking my face. "You're looking back to normal!" Finally pushing him off, I scratch behind his huge floppy ears, my chest filling as it always does in his optimistic presence.

"So he's feeling better, huh?" My grateful smile doesn't budge her. I didn't think it would.

"Don't think you're getting away with being late _again_, booger." I glare at her; sticking my tongue out at her scowl and at the mop she's holding. How old am I again?

"Akamaru," She and my mother are the only ones other than me who can order him around, "Get back in there. You're not completely healed yet, and I don't want you opening the stitches again." He whimpers pleadingly at her, resting his large, fluffy head in my hands. Her eyes warm considerably. Nothing and no one can melt my sister like an animal.

She turns to me; "He'll be ready in a couple of days."

A police car struck him as it ran a stop sign and almost ran me over. Instead, it got Akamaru's hind end as the huge dog shoved me to the other side.

I sneakily feed him the dried dog treats my mom makes every morning, which he gratefully laps up. They're his favorite. He licks me all over, and woofs his goodbye as Hana points him back to his dog bed.

She turns to me, and the absence of Akamaru's warmth has me shivering under her watch.

"After you're done, be sure to clean up the cages. Poor old Buck just can't seem to control his bladder anymore." With an unmercifully evil smirk, she jaunts into the back.

I can't hold back the immense sigh that shakes my bones. She made me clean the shit on purpose: not just because I hated remedial chores and it was gross to begin with, but because I'd always had a particularly sensitive nose, adding to the torture.

After I'm done, it's my turn to man the counter.

Five hours and unimaginable boredom later, I look up from my puzzle to the jingle of door bells. A grin splits my face instantly. Saved at last! The boy walks in, already grinning back at me, stretching those crazy scars across his cheeks barely line-thin. Blue eyes take in my desperate situation.

"Dude," I start. He shakes his head, "Say no more." He winks at me and I feel my soul lighten. Out of hell an hour early, could it be true?

"Hana! My lovely flower, how are you today?" Naruto turns his unbelievably charismatic smile on my unbelievably stubborn sister. She, as ever the epitome of feminine grace, snorts. But hey, she smiles. That's a good sign.

"I am in desperate need of your brother; you think I could steal him away for some very important business?" Blue eyes twinkle. I squint hopefully.

"Sure, Naruto." No way. Something smells fishy here.

I feel the disbelief strain my features, "What?" No way it was gunna be that easy.

"Thanks, Hana-lovely!" Naruto grabs me by the collar, dragging me after him as I struggle to take off the stupid apron I was forced to wear.

"Don't worry, Kiba," she calls after us, "I'll make sure to dock your pay!"

Fuck.

I pull out of my best friend's grasp, straightening my jacket, running a hand through my tangled hair.

He turns to me, "How's the great white beast?"

I shrug, "Better."

"So? What's this 'very important business' I'm getting my already insignificant pay reduced for?" He looks at me a long second as we walk.

"There's been another incident." I feel a hollow surprise widen my eyes. I realize the surprise should have worn out by now. "What was it this time?"

He shakes his head, eyes clouding. "You know that little place down 4th we always used to go to?"

I nod.

"Arson. Last night, all the family members found dead, hanging from the roof." I feel sick. When would it stop? "How do we know it was them?" I ask, but I already know the answer.

"They were the same as the others: tortured, then branded post-mortem, and the same sign engraved. That damn cloud." He sighs, the air a ten-ton weight. "These small-time business owners, they're not what they're really after. They're just warnings. Warnings to whoever might be stupid enough to not sell at the first offer." He looks at me sidelong. I glance back at him, then to my leaded feet.

They had only arrived a few years ago. Working day or night, they wore black suits, or shrouds embossed with red and gold clouds. Their costumes alone separated them from any other gang I'd seen or dealt with, which were quite a few. Unlike the others, they had something that made them invincible in this town. Sponsors.

"This new gang—they're only tools. The imported action in the bigger plot; they're the chess pieces doing the brain's dirty work. We have to figure out who's behind this, and who brought them here." I tongue the new cut in my lip.

"I think we both have a pretty good idea. The chances are 50/50 between the two. Or even worse, something I don't even want to consider-" His blue eyes darken extraordinarily, "it's both."

I gulp. I don't want to think about that possibility. I don't want to think her, even indirectly, involved with this sickness.

The Great and Ancient Hyuuga family, along with their fortune-500, multi-billion dollar corporation, arrived in Konoha six years ago. Things have been deteriorating in the inner city since. Then, to add to the festering injury, four years ago the legendary Uchiha family and Sharingan Co. moved across the city. Since then Konoha has attracted more and more 'big' business, and the city between companies bought up greedily. That's when the murders began; the land being worth more than it's inhabitants.

After they arrived, the still struggling bowels of the city simply gave up. We've been in a worsening depression ever since. While the suburbs and the outer rim of the city begin to shine with the wealth of big business, the heart of the city is sucked dry. This is something we believe was done on purpose; a sort of brush fire set to weaken the hold of those people it didn't originally drive out. And now, caught between two international Corporations in a hysteric land rush, the residents of the inner city are being pushed and played and killed like unimportant peons in some grand cosmic game.

"So," I meet his gaze, "what now?"

He bites his lip. "Now," He looks determinedly forward. I clearly recognize that look, and it disturbs something deep within me.

"Now, we gather."

I sigh.

He clears his throat, smacks his lips and grins. "I'm going to the bookstore after this, since it won't start 'till late tonight. You coming?" My thoughts flick strangely back to the Princess.

"Nah. I'll catch you later."

* * *

**And so the build begins. The first few chappies are to set it all up, so they're a bit short. **

**Questions / Comments?**

**Love,**

**B.E**


	3. Three

**This is when the rating comes into play.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**3: Sasuke**

**.**

**.**

**.**

The man named Iruka looks me up and down, and then scrunches his nose ever so slightly. I feel nearly affronted, though my guarded eyes don't show it.

Standing in a warmly decorated, surprisingly sunny room that smells of dust, pine sol and old leather, I take in my surroundings through peripheral vision only. I keep my eyes on the people in the room and the visible exits.

With pine floors and bright beige walls and cheerful, white trimmings, the room seems to give off its own balmy light. Said light bathes the floor-to-high-ceiling bookshelves, the stacks of books piled in precarious mountains on the floors, the worn leather armchairs and especially the man standing in front of me.

Looking down, I find it has somehow drenched me, too.

I also find why Iruka had looked me over in disgust. I'm filthy. My black satin dress pants, once neatly ironed, are now a collage of different shades of dirt; my white t-shirt, needless to say, is not even washable.

Iruka smiles that stupid smile again, "How about a shower?"

I open my mouth, ready to spew some venomous spiel about where the man could shove his suggestions when another, much taller man slouches in from a hidden room.

He looks me over with his one visible eye; the other covered by a black leather eye patch and tousled slate gray hair. The rest of his face is covered by a black hospital mask. I didn't know they came in black.

I snorted internally. Now I was being evaluated by spiky the infectious pirate.

"Well Iruka, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think you've actually found someone dirtier than me." Wink and all. It takes me a second to process what the man had just said; he'd said it so matter-of-factly. He'd just, just—

I can't speak, or even lift my knife menacingly; it was such a lame 'dirty' joke. I'm awoken by his low chuckle; Iruka punches the man exceptionally hard on the shoulder. He barely shifts under the assault, as if he were made of steel under his lean, lanky frame.

"Kakashi! That's no way to speak to a child! Especially one you just met!" Iruka sighs heavily, bringing a frustrated hand to rub his pulsing temples, "—this is the way he greets strangers, how about the kids? That's where they've been learning those words…" It never crossed my mind those warm chocolate eyes could glare so icily.

Wait. Did that tan bastard just call me a child?

The man called Kakashi appears unfazed, smiling foolishly and leaning ever closer to whisper in Iruka's ear.

Then the quite unexpected occurs.

Iruka floods red. Not just pink, but a red so bright I can feel the heat radiating off his face.

Then he's grabbing my arm, dragging my surprise-paralyzed ass deeper into the strange building.

He makes very sure to speak to me facing forward, not allowing me the brunt of his burning cheeks.

"The bathroom's right here. I'm sure you know what to do." He shoves a white towel into my arms and pushes me into the small room.

I lock the door behind me and begin my inspection. There would be no Internet videos of my bare ass after this. After a good five minutes and a close look at every crack and crevice in the room, I stand naked in front of the mirror, letting the water warm before I step in.

I run a pale hand across my chest, over the purpling bruises that stain the creamy skin there, over the sunken place where my stomach used to reside; over the slim cuts and torn silver scars that run races down my arms, my sides, my hips. The worst is my back, but I don't ever bother looking there anymore. No use brooding. Running my hands through my now slightly greasy black hair, I rip my eyes from the mirror and step into the steam billowing from the tiled alcove.

The hot water pounds my sore back, running in relaxing rivulets down my face, washing away all the dirt and grime from my pores.

I sigh into the hot air around me, feeling it swallow up the stress and release me from its tension.

Pressing a hot hand against my stomach, I feel a stir in me. I open my eyes, breath hitching. My hand trails to my concave abdomen. The stirring heightens. Squeezing my other hand, up on the wall, into a fist, I struggle for an eternal second against my very humanity.

My humanity wins. I face the wall, and close the world away with the peaceful darkness behind my lids. My hand lowers even further, ghosting across the increasingly sensitive skin, then to cropped curls, until it reaches the root of the stirring. Biting my lip, I focus on the motion of my fingertips, up and down, feeling myself react slowly. I am awakening.

My fisted hand tightens, my fingertips circled underneath, to the most sensitive part of me, stroking now against the pulse of the vein. I press my knees against the wall, steadying myself.

It has been eight days. This is a ridiculously long time. But how could I release myself, when I was inescapably suffocated?

Now I am free, and I feel it. Gripping now, I pump once, twice, thumbing the blood-filling tip. My legs are trembling, my forehead pressed flush against the cold tile as the heat of the water curls against my broken back, running down my butt to drip heat against the back of my balls. I pump faster, biting down hard on my lip to keep from gasping aloud.

Flickering images run copiously across my vision. A writhing body in front of me, the color of the sun, hard muscles straining. A deep, pleading moan. Heated, sloppy kisses.

I make sure my lips are sealed tight. The fiery heat and weight of a body around me, contracting in pleasure, moaning my name, begging for more. Harder. Faster. Deeper.

My hand is flying, then caressing, pinching, thrusting me forward, into the hot, wet arms of my first orgasm in over a week. My nostrils flare.

I clean the wall.

I finish my shower quickly, scrubbing my hair and skin with merciless force before shutting the tap and drying myself. Looking at the filthy rags on the counter, I sigh aloud and wrap the moist towel around my waist. I run a self-conscious hand across the purple staining my chest, shoulders and back. They would raise questions. Questions that would go unanswered.

I open the door in a cloud of steam, peeking hazardously for potential onlookers. Stepping gingerly onto the cool wood of the floor, I set out amongst the sunlight to find Iruka. Turning the corner to the last room I'd been in, I'm greeted by a sight that is definitely not Iruka.

A lean blond boy lounges in one of the armchairs, abnormally concentrated reading some dusty old tome. I clear my throat, and am met by wide, jewel blue eyes. I take a breath. He bears line-thin scars, strangely whisker-like, across both cheeks. It looks like we're all scarred here.

These huge eyes look me over, from dripping head to toe, pausing at my purpling chest, and finally come to rest on my annoyed face.

"You done?" I say between gritted teeth.

"Who kicked your ass?"

I feel my eyebrow twitch.

He grins stupidly. "I'm Naruto." He takes the chance to not so discreetly check me out again. I roll my eyes.

At that moment, Iruka decides to come in. "Oh! I completely forgot to get you some spare clothes!" He holds up a finger, "Give me just a second."

As he walks out, I can't help but notice the satisfaction that purrs behind those eyes and rosy cheeks. I wasn't the only one getting busy while I was in the shower.

I take a seat in wait, flipping through a book disinterestedly to avoid conversation with the blond. However, the guy has no such peaceful thing as silence in mind.

"So, seriously, what happened?"

I ignore him.

Then I hear the screech of wood on wood as he drags his armchair closer to mine.

"Hey, you."

I ignore him again, flipping through more pages. Doestoevsky. I'd already read it.

"I know you can hear me."

Silence.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to fill in the gaps myself." He takes a moment to gather his obviously scarce thoughts. "It sucks those big bullies took your lunch money, man." I make the dire mistake of glancing up in distain, "You'll get 'em next time." He winks at me. "That's why I say, 'always carry a weapon!'"

Of all the things he could have come up with.

"Of course, with that scrawny frame, no wonder they picked you to steal from. You gotta eat, dude."

I sigh in irritation. "Look, I'm not your 'man' or your 'dude'. I don't know you, asshole, and I don't give a fuck about you. So why don't you just save it for someone who actually gives a shit?"

And, I decide not to add, I'm at _least_ four inches taller than _you_, dickweed.

He laughs. Fuck.

"Oo-okie doke, bro." I can't hold back the glare. If I'd tried, I might've blown up. At least he shut up.

Wait, never mind. I sigh heavily as he continues to babble pointless words, "But really, who were they?" His eyes assess me more carefully now, "from the looks of it, there were two of them or more. Did they wear black cloaks? Or fancy suits?" My brain sparks. I pretend not to realize just whom he's talking about, so he would say more. Just to be sure.

"Did they have red and gold clouds on them? Real expensive looking stuff?"

Oh, shit. Unconsciously, my brows furrow and he catches on.

"It was them, wasn't it?" The screech of his coming closer, "Tell me, I can help you."

At this, I have to look up. The smirk comes from nowhere. It's his unbelievably earnest face. He truly believes he can help me. I just can't help that sneer from twisting my face into a small facade of the true ugliness of what I had been through. Of what they had subjected me to. Of what they had covered up.

All for money.

I have no interest in money.

All I want, all my life is worth, is revenge.

Revenge worth a lifetime.

On all those motherfuckers.

"Piss off, little boy." It's his turn to frown.

"Why don't you just chill the fuck out and answer the question? Or is it too hard for you?"

I snort. At least he's interesting.

"Because you're not worth my time, and you couldn't comprehend it anyway, dumbfuck."

Before I can react, he's an inch from my face, huge blue eyes boring into my own, reading my mind.

"Try me."

I feel his breath brush my lips.

That is the moment Iruka chooses to barge in, jeans and a t-shirt in tow. He pauses at the sight of us, the blond asshole an inch from my face, lithe body almost against my bare chest sunken in the leather of the chair.

I shove him off me, a little excessively so that he stumbles backwards a few feet.

Iruka takes an indefinite minute taking in the abuse left to tarnish my body. The he looks into my eyes; the abyss of warmth that pools endlessly in his makes me unable to hold his gaze for more than a difficult second.

"I wasn't sure what your size was, but I found you some clothes that should fit." He smiles; it's a practiced smile, one that knows of these things from experience. But it's a shaken thing. I glare at him, ripping the clothes from his fist and stalking to the bathroom.

Who the fuck did he think he was? I slam the door, once inside resting my head against the cool relief of tile.

The jeans look like kid jeans, and the saddest part is that they fit. My waist had always been particularly narrow, but in recent months I'd been dropping pounds like flies, and the majority of my clothes looked almost awkwardly too big.

These fit perfectly around the hips, but the legs are several inches too short. I roll up the ends to make it seem purposeful.

The shirt is slightly too small around the shoulders, the thin cotton stretching taut against my shoulder blades and chest, then draping loosely around my concave abdomen. It would have to do.

I sit on the toilet for a second, my pale fingers pressing against the black ink on my shoulder in vain hope for some magic strength. I'd gotten the tattoo four years ago, and it had helped me survive ever since. It was my source of strength. It was what allowed me to plough through the last three years of increasing domestic stress without breaking entirely.

Now it only serves as a painful reminder. It started hurting seven months ago, after the first raid I saw. After I realized who was behind it. After I saw the true depth of the beast, and with it the impossibility of saving humanity.

We're all fucked in the end. Every once in a while, the pain will sharpen and stab repeatedly like a vengeful blade. Like now. I watch the blood drain from my knuckles as they death-grip the cheap white countertop.

Ever since then, it hurt to do much of anything. Then again, that might be a side effect of the bruises littering my body. Ever since he first hurt me.

The tattoo had been a sign of trust. Now it was a sign of trust broken. He had been my refuge. Then he became my curse. My fingers grip the skin of my back as if to tear the ink from its rest under my flesh.

I count all those who pain me.

My dead father.

My brother.

My once-lover.

Myself.

My cursed mark.

* * *

**Still setting up.**

**Love.**

**.**

**.**

**B.E**


	4. Four

**4: Hinata**

**.**

**.**

**.**

The people fly by like ghosts, wraiths unaware of my presence, invisible inside. I always feel so small inside my father's huge Bentley, the cavernous black leather interior swallowing me up entirely.

I watch the real people outside, suddenly feeling like a ghost myself. This is not a new feeling. This is something I struggle with every day.

Am I real? What is real, anyway? If real means something physically tangible, or rather something visible, noticeable, then I don't exist. I am invisible.

I like it better that way, anyhow.

If you're real, then that gives people a reason to talk down to you. If you're real, then people care about you. Right?

So I'm not real, but that boy is. I've pretended not to notice him, so he wouldn't be scared off. The last thing people want is for a ghost to start noticing them. After all, this morning he saw me see him, and he didn't come back this afternoon. So I managed to ruin even that small pleasure.

My hands clasp together tightly, as if by their melding, they could somehow keep the rest of me solid. I meticulously unravel them, one by one, until my hands rest one on each knee.

I gaze out the blackened window. I can see them, but they cannot see me.

The story of my life.

Then,

I see him.

Again!

My hands, of their own volition, grip the door and clench each other securely. There he is, among humanity, a real person, walking alongside another boy. The other is blond, happy looking. I've seen him before, somewhere...I smile, my eyes following their stride. Ah! I know. I've seen him at various protests in front of my family's compound, as well as on the news. For suspected initiation of riots. They talk animatedly as they walk, and I long to know what they speak of. They must have the most interesting stories. I find my heart yearning after them. To be with them: to be a part of something so wholly ambitious. So wholly good. They walk into a store,

"Hana's Pet and Vet Shop"

My heart is throbbing in my chest, pounding unfamiliar life into my veins. I would visit that store. Tomorrow. I would sneak out; go see them. I wouldn't talk to them; that would be too much. Just a glimpse. That was all I needed to satisfy my impulse for reality. Then I could float on, propelled maybe for months on just this small taste.

I arrive at the compound just in time for dinner. In my room, the maid lays out the formal black gown and jewels while I comb out my hair. It has gotten too long, its thick straight mass flowing to my waist. I wish I could simply take scissors to it, shear myself of its dead weight.

Once I'm ready, I quell my dread and flow silently past the family members and nearly nightly guests whose faces and names I can't remember to the table. I take my rightful place at the right-hand of my father's chair.

It is a position I am ashamed of. Not because it isn't rightfully, by blood, mine, but because I am expected to live up to it; something I've always known could never happen.

As I said, I am non-existent. A ghost.

Neji sits across from me: we are the two hands of the family head, Hiyashi.

However, Hiyashi is left handed.

His right hand is simply too delicate to handle the inner workings of the company or family. Neji's wan face is beautiful, as always, in the soft glow of the dinner candles. He gives me a stiff smile.

"You're looking lovely tonight, as always, Hinata." The statue speaks. Always with the formalities.

I can never seem to push my voice past a whisper. A good thing, in this case, that Neji has inhuman hearing. "Thank you, Neji. How is business?" His pale eyes squint his true answer while his mouth smiles wryly, not speaking as the rest of the family take their seats.

My father nods coldly at me for a split second in greeting before addressing Neji and the rest of the table. I look into the intricate blue painting on my plate, then at the steamy food placed in front of me, tuning in and out of the conversation as it grows more and more heated.

A guest, a regular and as far as my knowledge a financial director of some prestige at the company, face reddening, bursts at Hiyashi, "Their stocks were dwarfed by our shares only last year, and now, now, they've doubled! In one quarter! How do you expect-"

I glance around, watching the engrossed expressions, each at varying degrees of agitation, around the table. Only Neji and Hiyashi seemed fully collected.

"They pose no threat," piped up one of the family elders, "We've been here much too long for them to cause much damage. We still control well over majority shares."

"But damage is damage nonetheless," Neji's turn to speak. He is regarded with as much if not more respect than most of the others, except my father. "We need to get them out. We already know they're into black market dealings, using dirty tactics-"

The red-faced one from before cut him off, "They own the legislature around here! Our only hope of competing would be to-"

Hiyashi places his napkin on the table. This is my signal.

The one time I actually want to stay. I look up, our eyes meeting for a bare moment. Mine are nearly pleading. His are walled in. I am clearly dismissed.

With a fluid movement, I excuse myself and flee. I have no answer, no defense for that look. While all others so 'close' to him seem to bear some semblance of courage against him, I can only cower. I didn't miss the frown Neji tossed me as I escaped.

Always so disapproving. Always disappointment. Whether I stand or I bend, I have always done it wrong.

I lock the door to my room, although I know no one will bother. Once, I awoke screaming bloody murder from a particularly beastly nightmare, fueled by oh-too-true experience. No one came running. I didn't sleep that night.

I fling myself onto the banister immediately, dropping the gown from my shoulders as if its weight were to blame for my own incompetency, my lack of confidence. My breath comes in deep gasps. No matter how much I take in, it's never enough. I'm never truly satisfied. This half-life is no way to live; I'll suffocate. Like cloth pressed to my mouth, the night air from way up on my tower is thick and depleting. I need to get out.

Not even the stars, their distance from me, can alleviate the surmounting pressure that threatens to blow out my eardrums.

I'm facing the cool marble of the floor. Crouched low, my knees quickly begin to ache as I tip my face to watch the 20-foot drop to the street below. Wearily, I grip the seamless white bars of my prison and face the abyss below me.

What would it be like, to fall?

Truly and desperately, not the kind of psychological falling one experiences day-to-day. But a real, terrible, fatal fall?

Before my conscious mind can catch up, my entire upper body is over the edge. A moment more, and it would have been irreversible. I come around entirely, straightening and gripping the jail bars tighter than ever.

I could have died. Or maybe, just maybe, I could have flown away.

Two gleaming eyes follow my form from below, bathed in the clear moonlight. Like a silver frost, it covers everything.

It's him. My heart pounds into my head, now my fingers grip the rail for real support. I can't breathe again. Gulping air like a beached fish, better than panting like I want, those bright eyes catch me again.

He flashes a toothy smile. He has dimples. And twin tattoos, red triangle scars down his cheeks. I feel myself flutter like a leaf in the wind. I manage a tiny smile back. I hope he can see it. It seems like he could, because he motions to come up.

I'm nodding before I realize what I'm doing.

I don't know this guy. He could be a murderer for all I know, or a gangster, or a rapist, or a thief, or any combination! I begin trembling all over, but as he climbs his way to my wide-open doorway, I grab an iron candleholder. I stand in the entrance, my heart racing my lungs and brain, and winning out, as he surfaces.

He is tall, beating me by at least 6 inches even in my low dinner heels; broad shouldered, his muscled chest pressing against his thin t-shirt, purged of color by the moonlight. He grins; his teeth incredibly sharp, and I feel my hand on the candleholder relax slightly.

Then he sees my weapon. Holding his hands up in surrender while taking a small step forward, he speaks. His voice is a tenor melody, angled soothingly over my stress.

"Hey," My face snaps towards the brunt lure of his, "Hey, you planning on using that?" He looks from the blunt weapon and back to me. My eyes follow his, and I firm my grip and steady myself. This is no time for stupidity.

Although I try my hardest to be brave and puff myself out, my voice barely reaches a whisper, "That depends."

He grins, and a flood of pleasure overwhelms me. It's increasingly difficult to keep my fingers wrapped tight around my candleholder.

I have to be brave, now. I have to show my strength. "W-Who are you?"

"My name's Kiba. Inuzuka Kiba." He steps a little closer, his eyes incredibly bright. I step back once, my back now pressed against the French door leading to my balcony. "And you are-?"

I feel my brows furrow. Everyone in the city already knew what this compound was, so there wouldn't really be any point in lying.

"Hyuuga Hinata."

He smiles almost shyly and steps closer, holding his hand out, "Nice to meet you, Hinata." I stare at his hand, then back at him. What to do? He could grab my hand, then drag me over that balcony, never to be seen again.

I clasp his hand carefully. "The pleasure's mine." The whisper comes out a little stronger than before. As far as I can see, almost anything would be better than remaining invisible. I find myself suddenly no longer wishing to be a constant transparency. Maybe, it wasn't so bad to be a real person, if there were more real people like this guy.

I shake my head. I don't even know this guy. I'd only seen him a couple times. He'd only acknowledged me once.

His eyes remain on my face for a long minute, silently probing and taking in as much as they can hold. When he is full, eyes brimming with something I don't understand, he glances over the rest of me and ends up back at my face.

He's blushing harder than even I've ever flushed.

"Uh, H-Hinata," His voice is low; was that a stutter? His blushing face, and I being the cause, although I don't know why, was enough to lure me deeper. He's…pretty cute.

"Yes, Kiba?" I like his name.

"W-where are your clothes?" Oh. Shit. I glance down, over my nearly see-through white lace bra and underwear, and realize I had dropped my gown like fire a long time ago. I have been in my underwear the whole time.

Now it's my turn for a record-breaking blush. So much blood rushes to my head at once, I actually find my vision pixilating and clouding with black fog at my sheer horror. I swoon, stumbling to cover myself although it is already too late, the damage done, and close my spinning eyes at the dreadfulness of it all. It is ruined, surely. I can't breathe. It's a miracle he hadn't thrown me over his shoulder and lugged me off against my will at first sight.

No one, not even the maid that took care of me since I was little, has ever seen me this naked. Now, this stranger has. At least, at the very least, he hadn't been a jerk about it.

When my head clears, I find myself supported by a strong arm, covered by what looks like a leather jacket. He half carries me to my bed, into which I gratefully fall, hiding myself as far under the mountain of down blankets as possible. I want to burrow in there forever, never to face the shamed light of day again.

The 'poof' of disturbed pillow fluff as he sits weightily at the edge of my bed.

"Sorry." He mumbles. I only blush harder in my dark cave.

"I promise, I didn't realize—I, I'm not..." I quiet my breathing, curious despite my embarrassment as to what he would say, "I'm not a… creeper, or anything..."

I stay silent a minute, unsure as to what I should say. Instead to saying anything, I peek over the blankets. His back is hunched, wringing his hands as if to tear them off. He scrubs one through the wild curls of his hair. I, as carefully as ever, gently touch his back. My fingers tremble at the heat. He's like a radiator. He jumps, spinning to look at me. It's harder to tell in the dim moonlight of my room, but I think I can make out a blush darkening his cheeks.

"C-Could you…find me some clothes?" His eyes widen. "In the dresser with the flowers." He hastily goes to the dresser.

"Which-?"

"The third has shirts, the fourth has pants."

After a second of digging, he rushes back to the bed and gingerly places the cloth in my upturned hand. He smiles slightly, seeing all nearly forgiven, and turns around so that I can change.

After slipping on the clothes, a light purple tank top and jeans, I touch his shoulder again. He is so warm. My fingers burn, something that spreads up my arm. He turns, eyes taking in my now clothed form appreciatively. I blush, but only slightly. Him looking me over now isn't nearly so bad as what just happened.

Then his dark eyes turn pleading, "Hinata, I'm sorry again, I didn't mean to-"

I smile, barely, "It's okay."

A sudden slow tension groups the muscles at his neck and back.

He watches me again. Penetratingly, inquiringly, as if all the view he'd filled up on earlier had been used up and he was desperate for more. It is almost as if he were searching my face for something. I breathe. His hands clench and unclench at his sides. Gently, slowly, eyes on mine, he grasps my hand in his calloused one, parting the fingers with the tenderness one would defer to parting flower petals.

He places something cold and metallic in my hand, wrapping the fingers one by one around the object. His eyes never leave mine. I can't admit I'm absolutely mesmerized.

I look into my hand.

A knife.

I glance back at him, eyes boring questions into his when he speaks, "Now do you trust me?"

I don't need to think, "No."

He grins, a banana-shaped thing that shoves a smile onto my face as well.

Jiggling in his pocket, he pulls out a small, cylindrical black tube.

"Pepper spray." Placing the thing in my hand as well, he cocks his eyebrows. Between the brows and the grin, it is all I can do not to start laughing aloud.

"Now?"

I pout a second, contemplating why I feel so secure around him. There is no saying who he was, what he did, or what he would do with me. However, perhaps it was a result of years of abysmal self-esteem, but I simply can't bring myself to care about the dangers more than I care about how he makes me feel. I feel…real.

He senses my hesitation, however. Those once humorous brows now furrow in concentration. He bites his lip, thinking of ways to get me to trust him, no doubt.

Finally, he grips my hands, weapons and all, and kneels carefully at my feet. His eyes are pleading, and unbelievably honest.

I actually, living without words for most of my life in a family of cold-hearted manipulators and social functions, have developed a sort of sixth sense. I have quite a keen eye for behavior: I can tell when someone is lying, guilty, ashamed, happy, grumpy—you name it, I can call it.

Kiba was being genuine. In fact, thinking back, that was what I had sensed about him from the beginning, what I trusted and liked so much. He was sincere in everything he said and did.

Now he is penetrating my soul with his honest eyes, smiling wryly, and saying in that melodious low growl, "All I can give you is my word. Will you come with me tonight? I have something you have to see. I can't make you trust me, but I can give you my word as a human being that I will bring you back safely. Before dawn." His eyes are imploring.

All I want is to hug him. I want to run my fingers through those tangles, across the twin triangles that mark his cheeks, down his strong veined neck…

I limit myself to a few fingers on his cheek and a closer view as I lean in.

"Alright."

* * *

**.**

**To all those who've been reviewing, you're incredibly appreciated C:**

******Love.**

**B.E**


	5. Five

**5: Naruto**

**.**

**.**

**.**

In many ways, he is the answer to my prayers. I stumbled upon a survivor. Not only that, but one coherent and lively enough to remember things, and to be… helpful in the investigation. From the clean, shattered-porcelain look of him, a member of the Upper inside.

This is it. The stone is rolling. I take the moment to clear my lungs, sucking in precious new air, relishing the youthful buzz in my limbs. I glance at the novel in my hands and stack it back in the pile, picking out another. Shakespeare. I flip it open to a random page.

I need this guy. I need him, like I need air in my lungs. I _feel_ it. I bite my lip, trying to think of a way to keep him interested. I need him to see it, tonight. I need him to feel it, too.

It has to change.

If not, we're all fucked.

But I'll never give up.

Not even if the companies do end up running us all out, I'll live in the shadows and fight them off.

This is my city.

My people.

I'll never give up on them.

The words wash my mind. From my peripheral vision, the shadow emerges from the bathroom. I discreetly, at least, as discreetly as possible, follow his graceful gait from the bathroom. His new clothes accentuate the sharpness of the boy's beauty, but also the not-quite faint emaciation of his cheeks. I need to get this kid a sandwich, stat.

For being so much taller than me, he has to be around the same weight. He looks a little better then I did when I first found Iruka. Dark eyes regard my warily; his hand twitches ever so slightly against the bulge of his knife in his pocket. He leans in the direction of the closest exit.

My lips twitch.

"Feeling handsy?" I indicate towards his jeans pocket. He scowls, and the sunlight refracts blue against the midnight black of his water-limp hair.

I can't take my eyes off him; or rather, the bruises that I know litter his body through that thin shirt. The dying sunlight glints off silver scars.

He's covered in them.

He ignores me.

"So, its the silent game?" He flips a page in the book he's been reading.

This ones quite a challenge. I smile.

"I can play that game."

He looks harshly at me, "can you?"

My smile disappears like a damp flame. What an asshole. If I didn't need information from him, I would've punched him long ago. Although, I frown, he seems like he's taken enough beatings. Well, he escaped this one, but I even can only take so much.

He's the only survivor the inner city knows of to-date. Everyone else who has encountered this gang has died gruesomely. And he seems of high standing; do they not kill the rich ones? Or does he have some other connection to them?

Why would they attack him? He certainly doesn't seem 'normal', but—I shake my head. It just doesn't make sense. The marks on his body tell a brutal story. Several people attacking at once: and this was a brawl. He fought. My eyes graze the faint line bruises across his wrists and neck. He was bound, too tightly. He visibly prickles at my not-so-subtle examination, rising to the very edge of his hackles.

This was a slow thrashing; the participants took their sweet time once he was tied down.

This meant I was right about all the others. The bodies. The now tens and mounting small business owners and their families: all of whom had been tortured to death by these monsters. That could've happened to this kid.

Black abyss eyes lock on mine, and their annoyance takes my breath away.

"Stop fucking staring at me."

The gruesome images of a I'd seen vanish, and I'm suddenly relieved; he is alive, and relatively well. Well, now he would be great. The perverted couple that owns the building would look after him. I grin full on at him, releasing the respite in my smile. Now we can start moving on in destroying this gang.

The guy balks for a split second at my sudden radiation, recovering quickly to grimace at me in distain.

"I win." I grin full-force again, and again he seems for a tiny moment lost. He's record-breaking in recovering though.

"Congratulations." He smirks, dark eyes flashing. He exudes something unnamable. I can only say I feel its effect. It's nearly unnerving. It…makes my blood boil.

"So," I steady my gaze at his, "are you always so unsociable?"

He appears unable to restrain his snort. "You don't know the half of it."

So the alabaster man has a sense of humor. I can build off that.

"Then it'd probably be pointless to ask whether you like kids."

He ignores me.

"Well, sucks for you, man. Getting stuck with the lot of them 'n' all."

Oh? Was that a peek in my direction?

"Yeah, you know, tonight."

He sighs heavily, exasperatedly.

"What do you mean?"

I catch his eye and smile, unable to keep the mischievousness from my face.

"Exactly what I said."

He rolls his eyes, "forget I asked."

I grin, attempting to regain his hard-won attentions; "I'm assuming you're staying the night, seeing as it's almost dark, you're a runaway with some fierce shit after you, curfew's in a couple hours, and you have no idea how to navigate this city, much less avoid the cops and the other gangs roaming out there."

He watches me calculatingly.

"We all have a…thing tonight. Mandatory. So you can go with Iruka, Kakashi and some of the kids," He watches me dubiously, "Or you can go with me." He narrows his eyes, thinking hard.

"but I have to warn you, since that last riot I started, I've had quite a few close calls with your Akatsuki buddies." I shudder. They almost got me twice already; I'm still sore from last time.

I watch him a moment, then shrug and pretend to go back to my book. Since I most likely won't get a peep from him now, he may be more willing to talk once he's seen it. Truly, it's a thing to behold, no mater what side of town you hail from.

His narrowed eyes regard my icily. "Or I can leave now." It's obviously a bluff. He gets up. I sigh.

"You and I both know very well you can't do that."

I check my watch and amble to my feet. "You just missed dinner when you got here. Let me get you some ramen." I meander into the kitchen, pulling out the necessary equipment as I hear his hesitant approach. I motion for him to sit, and he does reluctantly at a bar stool by the island across the stove. I ignore him and start to cook. Oh, its therapeutic.

He eyes me guardedly; "They let you near fire without supervision?"

I scoff, sticking my tongue out at him. "Isn't that why you've been staring at me this whole time?" He gapes. I grin, "For your information, bastard, I do most of the cooking around here. Growing up in this place, you learn how to care for yourself." I toss him a complementary wink, and he grunts.

After a few minutes of strangely easy silence, I serve him up a steaming bowl and a smile.

"Eat up!"

He stares into the murky depths of his soup and back at me.

No. It would be an atrocity.

"Don't tell me you've never had ramen."

He grimaces, and I wonder if his facial muscles are capable of smiling. "Try it." I tell him sternly, and turn around to take care of the dishes. A glance at the clock mounted on the wall tells me we have to get going.

I turn back around, and am rewarded by a healthier glow in his sallow cheeks. The once-overflowing bowl is now completely empty.

I grin hugely at him. "I knew you'd like it."

He clenches his jaw, stubbornly silent. I watch the tension of his inner battle play in the muscles of his cut jawbone.

"You're welcome." I pick up this plate and toss it in the sink. "We gotta go." Turning to the open hallway, I call a farewell to Iruka, grab my keys and head for the door, not checking if the kid is behind me. I feel him.

Suddenly a strong hand is on my shoulder. He's looking intently at me. He gazes directly into my eyes for a long moment.

"Thanks." It's a coarse growl, the word obviously strange on his lips. I smile and shrug.

"What's you're name?" Its out before I realize what I'm saying. Chipped black eyes consider me. After a second, I think he deems me worthy.

"Sasuke."

I hold out my hand, and he rolls his eyes. I insist.

"Uzumaki Naruto."

His dark eyes, windows of turbulent thought, watch mine. He smirks, and it's as if a wall of ice shatters in that instant.

He grasps my hand for a brief, powerful moment, and we walk out into the chill night.

.

.

.

* * *

**Hey. Sorry it's been so long; life's a bitch sometimes.**

**This is the last set-up; tis why it's so short.**

**Love.**

**Bright Eyed**


	6. Six

**6: Kiba**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Her lantern eyes trap me once more. She shifts, and her intoxicating scent fills the air. I purposefully drag my eyes away from her, feeling the bubbles of excitement threatening up my throat. This is surreal. She is standing right in front of me. It's difficult to rise to my feet in her presence. When I do, she smiles, like a punch to the lungs, and parts those full lips,

"Okay."

I step back, toward her balcony. To my delight, she keeps up with me, staying close. She slips the weapons into her pockets. I feel my spare knife burn into mine. If all goes well, I won't have to worry too much about her safety tonight.

I look out, and remember the climb up to her room. How could I let a Princess attempt such a trek, when there is nothing to break her potential fall?

We reach the edge, and with a glance at the merciless drop, I face the brunt of her power with the bravest, most charismatic face I can.

"It's a bit of a tricky climb…" she peers at me, then leans over the railing to investigate. I hear her gulp. She stills for a long second, then releases a heavy breath.

"I've got this." It's a whisper. She turns to me, her eyes darker than I've ever seen them. "I've got this." It's louder, now. A statement more for herself. Still…I peer over the edge again, then look at her. She smiles at me, that punch-in-the-chest knockout one. I bite my lip.

"Look, I—" damn. A new, determined gleam rises in her eye. How can I say no? "At least let me go ahead of you, just in case you slip. Its pretty damp." I smile my concession. She mulls it over for a second, squirming as she thinks, and I'm momentarily entranced by her shape. _That scent_…

That smell will drive me crazy by the end of the night.

"Okay. Lets go." I grin, "Excited?" She grins too, and I'm blown away.

My mind goes blank, like a reset button.

She luminous pale eyes catch mine, and I'm back. I shake my head and climb down the vine, smiling. This is happening.

I look up, and she's studying me intently… Did…did she change her mind?

"Hinata?" Her eyes bore into mine. I smile weakly. She's very hesitant. Of course she's hesitant. She would be stupid if she weren't. Right? I'm some guy from the street that she just met.

This is crazy, anyway.

She's still searching my face. I reach towards her carefully, slowly.

"Do you want me to take your hand?"

She looks at my hand, then at me. Her face is lined with intense thought. Then, she breathes. She blinks, and her probing is finished. She reaches out, and my arm explodes with the sensation that is our skins connection. I cover a gasp. She looks absorbedly lost. I am lost in the glow of her skin in the moonlight. She swings a leg over the balcony, and it begins.

She is really coming with me. This Princess, with me, a stray mutt. She lets go to better grip the vine, and I'm shaken from my reverie. I climb down, a constant wary eye on her stability and footing.

I have a heart attack at every gentle squeak she emits on the way down.

We reach bottom. I'm relieved; she's practically buzzing with exhilaration. She's glowing. Somewhere unnamed, deep inside my core, something twists and clenches painfully. She steps towards me, huge, pale eyes alight, sweet breath filling my nostrils. She's a few inches away, and I'm rooted to the spot.

I have to touch her.

I have to. I must. My throat constricts painfully.

I smile through it, carefully grasping her silken knuckles, and kiss them chastely, but with all the passion I can expel. It isn't enough. I hear her small gasp, and follow up with my most charming smile.

"My lady." She giggles: a glorious sound, indeed.

I bravely continue to grasp her tender fingers, walking with her into the darkness of a back alley.

Once away from the pristine moon of the Hyuuga compound, her breath quickens. I pull her close, and she gratefully weaves her arm through mine. The proximity is fogging. I'm enveloped in her scent, my arm tingling with fire from her bold contact, spreading the flames as I feel her breast press against my arm. I bite my lip, focusing hard on the dark labyrinth before me.

"Where are we headed?" I smile. "To a… gathering." She hugs me tighter, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

"Is that what you wanted me to see?"

"Yes."

"Can you not say where it is?" I pause, turning to her. She looks up at me, and I dive into the depths of her eyes.

"Do you want me to?"

She blinks, thinking.

"No." She smiles, and begins walking again.

We talk all though the long walk. I find myself unraveling, and feel her also come a bit apart in my hands. Who knew a life of such privilege could be so lacking in basic needs; like human contact. I squeeze her arm under mine. The intimate knowledge of her life is a weight I relish, turning it over and putting her every word to heart. By the time we reach the portal, her fingers are intertwined in mine. The entrance Naruto told me to go through is a dusty, forgotten cellar trapdoor behind the ancient town hall, at the very heart of the city.

I regretfully release her arm and wrench open the old doors. This better be it. I don't think I could survive something as embarrassing as, after everything, leading her to some dead-end. Or worse, she could think the worst and use my knife and pepper spray on me, then get abducted running home. I swallow, hard. Yet sure enough, I spot the mark.

A swirling leaf. The sign of the nomadic movement I am part of, to get this great city, Konoha, back on its feet. I beckon Hinata forward.

"Hinata," I savor the name on my tongue, "this is it. Stay close." She bravely grasps my hand, and leads on into the darkness.

We come upon a huge, cavernous room. It's a part of the old sewage system, now vast and long since empty of working pipes or machinery. It looks like it was the main filtering room for reclaimed water.

Now, it holds an immense sea of faces, mostly young adults, however with much diversity. Along the walls, above the shallow pit where the crowds mill, stand my compatriots. I glance back at Hinata's awed face, grinning at her and pulling her closer.

"Amazing, isn't it?" She looks into my eyes, plump mouth slightly agape, and nods. I pull her forward.

"I wanna introduce you to my friends."

The first one we come upon in Shino. With his sunglasses on, even in the dimness of the room, his height and his cover-all coat, he looks threatening and looming against the brick wall.

"Shino." I grin at him. Although quiet and visibly threatening, I know him to be a gentle spirit. Unless fucked with. Then he's worse than his exterior suggests. He nods his greeting, and I notice the faint shift that is his evaluation of Hinata. He stiffens. Shit.

Recognition dawns on the small visible part of his face, and I know he's glowering at me. I give him a half smile and introduce her properly. Shino should know better than to judge based on the surface of a situation.

"Hinata, this is my friend Shino. Shino, this is Hinata."

Shino watches her. She smiles, wilting slightly under his scrutiny.

"Surely not _the_ Hyuuga Hinata?"

Well, upon clearer consideration, it probably wasn't the wisest idea to bring the daughter of the CEO of one of the Companies killing Konoha to a rally against the violent corporate, monopolistic takeovers.

I wet my lips and smile. But she's not like that. Her family treats her like crap. But they're still family.

I, as subtly as possible, graze my fingers over hers. She was starting to shiver.

I face Shino, catching him dead in the eye, "The very same."

He gives the tiniest smirk. A concession. I give a small nod.

Grinning, I carefully intertwine our fingers. She gives me a squeeze, and its like her fingers are pressing my chest, leaving me partially breathless.

"Later." I dispatch and we move through the crowd. I would talk to him later. I turn to Hinata, and I'm astonished again by her presence. She's adrift, eyes scanning the multitudes in a desperate attempt to understand and memorize. I catch her eye. We both smile.

"I don't think I've ever seen so many people." Its quiet, and in the roar around us I can barely hear her. I read her lips. "Its amazing."

Her luminous pale eyes have me utterly pinned.

"Why?"

Next to us, a tangle of people teeter precariously, and I pull her closer to the edge of the room. It's a crush, and more people keep pouring in every second. I'm soon pressed against her, barely an inch from her. To my shock, she gently wraps a soft arm around my waist, under my jacket. She shivers against me. I bite my lip, unsure of how to react. But all too soon, I'm enveloped by her presence, her _scent_…

I hold her questioning gaze, "Do you really want to know?" She blinks, and nods.

We're pushed closer together, pressing now, and I feel her warmth and weight, and its nearly an overload. She's pushed against me from breasts to groin, practically on top of me, and it's all I can do not to start panting. It's hot in here. She has some powerful pheromones.

My voice comes out slightly hoarse, "This is a rally. Its for the inhabitants of the inner city, to give designation against…a gang." I pause, looking away from her eyes, then back. "And the Uchiha-Hyuuga oligopoly."

She swallows, staring fixedly at my neck. I tentatively graze my hand against her back, and she awakens, grimacing.

"Oh." She gazes into the crush around us. "All these people. They are suffering." Her huge eyes lock on mine. "What terrible things have my father and cousin done?" They gleam with some newfound light. I feel her fingers curl into a fist at my back, and she presses her face to my chest. I think I'm going to pass out. I would never do that. She would fall if I passed out now.

I shake my head, wrapping another brave arm around her waist. "We don't know if your family's company's involved with the more …gruesome cases, at least."

She scoffs. "I wouldn't be surprised." She looks sullen, "This is partially my fault." I have the sudden urge to run my nose across her supple cheek.

"No it isn't."

She looks into my eyes, firmer than I've ever seen her. It takes my breath away.

"Yes, it is. I haven't done enough. I am going to fix that."

As soon as the words are out, the air between us changes, morphing into something utterly electric, pulsating with our ragged breaths. I feel her heat press me more irresistibly than ever. There is a tangible charge in the atmosphere, and my senses are working in overdrive; her mouth puckers ever so slightly, and mine waters. I swallow. I know she can feel the quickening thump of my heart against her breast. She tilts her head. I'm in slow motion, the sweetness building, leaning; her eyes are on my lips. This must be a fantasy. She clutches the back of my shirt and presses impossibly closer.

Somewhere far, far away from my fantasy, a tall young man emerges from the throng around us and clears his throat.

"Kiba."

I release a sigh I didn't know I'd been holding. Hinata floods red and shrinks like a wraith, pressing against the crowd to peel away from me.

"Shikamaru."

The lanky youth eyes me calculatingly, then looks over Hinata.

"So Shino wasn't shitting me, after all." It's a breathy statement.

I roll my eyes. And turn to a beet red Hinata.

"Hinata, this is Shikamaru. He's known for his manners." He grins lazily at us, shaking Hinata's hand.

"Miss Hyuuga." I glower at him from where she can't see me.

"P-Pleased to meet you." She gives the faintest of smiles.

Behind him, a slender pink-haired girl emerges from the press. She nods to me and Shikamaru, and smiles at Hinata. Sakura addresses me.

"Naruto's finally here." She blushes, to my surprise. "He brought a friend too. They're by the north wall. We're all gathered, four thousand familial representatives, with another two at the second and third gatherings. This is the biggest one ever." She offers a farewell smile and wanders off.

I turn to Hinata. "That was Sakura." She nods, lips pushed together. "Does everyone here know me?" Her beautiful brow furrows.

I shrug. "Most probably do, or will assume from your name."

"Is that dangerous?"

I watch her. She doesn't seem frightened.

"Not while you're with me." I grin my most reassuring smile.

She snorts beautifully, her eyes slightly more wary. Her fingers find mine, and another electric jolt washes through me.

Shikamaru surveys us, bemused. "Naruto was looking for you. We'll have to scatter soon; news is the cops are sniffing around." He smiles lopsidedly at Hinata, who gives a squeak of a farewell. He leans to my ear, so she can't hear us.

"You've got it bad, man. She seems sweet enough. But be careful; this all has gotten quite the mixed reception." And he's gone.

We head towards the North wall, my eyes scanning the crowds.

"So," comes the angelic voice next to me, "All these people, they're just…talking to each other?" I nod.

"They're sharing their stories, their experiences and knowledge about the adversary. Making connections. To better fight them. To unite." I grip her hand harder, feeling her press closer to me. "Also, to begin measures that will weaken their hold."

Ahead, I spy a mop of bright blond hair. Next to him, looming a few inches above Naruto's head stands a striking, ghostly boy with raven hair and snowy skin. He looks like he's eaten something sour.

Hinata sees them as well, and stills immediately. Her breathing is shallow. Naruto notices us, and starts heading over.

I turn to her. She's staring at them. I evaluate the boy next to Naruto: sure, he's pretty, but nothing all that special. I remember Sakura's blush, and notice red rising in Hinata's cheeks. _No_! Is she…checking him out? Or worse; could she be checking out Naruto…? I can't help it, my body automatically angles subtly between them.

"Kiba!" Naturo's booming greeting erupts both of us from our reveries, and I turn to him while Hinata seems to be attempting to become invisible. She tugs my hand. I look into her eyes, and they're unreadable, but so full.

"You okay?" I whisper. She reads my lips, and smiles weakly, opening her mouth as if to speak. She's cut off by Naruto's jubilant voice,

"How're you? I see you brought a lady friend." He tosses us both winks, and upon receiving hers, Hinata floods bright red, blinking rapidly. Her breathing speeds up. She bites her lip. Damn Naruto's natural charm.

"I brought a friend myself, although I'll bet he's not nearly as fun as yours." I can't help my grin, and I playfully jab him on the arm. "I'll attest to that." I turn to Hinata.

"This is Naruto, and this is-?" Naruto opens his mouth, but is surprisingly cut off by the youth next to him.

"Sasuke. Uchiha Sasuke." We all gape, except Hinata, who's flush deepens, "I believe we've met on several occasions, Miss Hyuuga." I think she's hyperventilating.

"A-Always a p-pleasure." I like that word on her lips. I don't like that it's directed at the manorexic model. She's swaying slightly, and I think it's her irregular breathing. I notice her stutter is back. With a certain glow of pride, I realize she doesn't stutter when speaking with me. I grip her hand comfortingly.

Naruto's doubly dumbfounded. He looks, agape, from Sasuke to Hinata and back.

Sasuke stares predatorily at Hinata, and I see every cruel judgment play out behind his chipped stone eyes. He sneers at her. I think she's going to pass out if this continues. Instinctively, my hackles rise and I tense.

What the fuck is his problem?

Hinata clutches my arm hard, with more strength than I thought possible, and I realize I've been leaning threateningly towards Sasuke, and my fists are clenched.

"When were you going to tell me that you're an Uchiha?" Naruto demands of Sasuke, and the guy is immediately deflected by the blond's insistence. A good thing, too. A quick glance at me says Naruto's helping me avoid a fight.

Naruto reddens when Sasuke rolls his eyes and ignores him. "Hey, dickweed, I'm talking to you!" I turn to Naruto, gripping his shoulder. I need to get her away from this guy. If I cared less about drawing attention to the two probably most hated people in the room and inciting a riot, I would kick his sorry ass. I feel her power wilting through my fingertips.

"Shika's spread the word, this dissolves on the hour. I'll see you at our place?" He nods at me, and I whisk Hinata away just as the pair begins bickering almost violently.

We escape the rising steam of the crowd through one of many entrances. She's breathing better. He'd said they'd met before, more than once. I peer at her through the darkness. Normal color is replacing the flush from earlier.

What kind of relationship did they have, to cause her such a reaction?

I won't address this at the moment.

Frankly, I can't bring myself to care. She's with me now.

"So, feeling up to an after party?" I grin boyishly at her, and she visibly relaxes.

Then, just as I start forward, she stops me, gripping my bicep, and looks mesmerizingly into my eyes. My breathing drops to a ragged gasp. What she does to me. She presses her plump lips, then gently, as I stand frozen, paralyzed, she leans in and plants a slow kiss at the edge of my mouth;

Its right on the spot I'd bit through this morning.

The slightly swollen flesh is particularly sensitive to her silken lips. She runs those gentle fingers across the tattoos on my cheeks, down my neck, spreading an incurable fire. I feel a low growl escape me. I cover it with a choked cough.

It takes all my self-control not to seize her right then and there, push her up against the wall, and make love to her till she screams my name. I settle for a deep, calming breath, my nose in her hair, and the delicious friction of our bodies as I hug her close. I grip her hand, awash with the fresh realization that this is indeed reality. Her lamp-like eyes rule mine, and I know I'll never find this feeling with anyone else.

.

.

* * *

**Boo !**

**Me again.**

**Review, damnnit.**

**.**

**Love.**

**Bright Eyed**


	7. Seven

**Rating WARNING.**

* * *

**7: Sasuke**

**.**

**.**

**.**

His tan face, now blotched with red, glares heatedly at me. It's amusing, making him angry. It takes so little.

He looks around guiltily, as if with new eyes. "This is dangerous. We should go." I quirk my brow at his sudden concern for my safety.

"It wasn't so dangerous just a moment ago."

He glowers at me, and its something new. Its not every day someone challenges me. Maybe that's why it's so novel. I smirk coldly at his anger. He flushes red again. I feel like a matador.

"Well, a moment ago I didn't know you were the spawn of the devil."

The hatred in his voice shocks me.

I blink, affronted. Somewhere forgotten, a long-aching prick twists painfully, and it's the pain that wakes my reaction. It forces its way onto my face. Naruto stupidly gapes at his own words, then at whatever cruel sentiment has warped my face, and moves to touch me. I shrug him off.

"What, you take it back, street shit?" I leer maliciously at him. This should be no surprise.

I turn and wade through the masses. I don't know where I'm going, and I don't care. I shouldn't have come. Now the bitchy ghost princess will rat me out to her father, who will then give the press another spectacle. Like they haven't already had their way with me. Itachi will skin me alive. Or rather, send me off to _him_ to do it. I shudder. Well, I have shit on them too.

I feel him behind me a split second before he grabs me, leading on through the crowds to a secluded entrance.

His huge, jewel blue eyes are stormy as I throw him off me.

"Don't fucking touch me." It's a direct threat, whispered low in my throat. His brows furrow.

No one has gotten me this upset in a very long time. I hate that this stranger, this nobody, could even make me feel uncomfortable. Fuck them all.

"Look, sorry. That was uncalled for."

I stare at him. He stares back. He smiles, and I swear I'll rip his face off. He sees it in my face.

"You know, I think I know exactly what you need." The mischievousness is plain on his face.

"To my place!"

I turn over following him for a second. I could just walk off. But then, unfortunately, Naruto was right. Probably most anyone in that huge room would kill me in a second, or worse, kidnap me for ransom. According to half of the entire city's population, I really was the spawn of the devil.

I allow him to lead the way through the maze of alleys. We travel in silence, with him occasionally trying to pry information from me. Where I came from. What my family is like. Who beat me up. Why I ran away. All are met with stony silence. I don't owe this asshole anything.

At last, we reach a small, lit townhouse. It's shabby, like the rest of this side of the city, but comfortable looking. He grins at me, teeth flashing in the moonlight.

"Ready?" I stare him down. "I know you don't like people, but there's gunna be a lot of them there. Be nice." He looks pointedly at me. I watch him impassively. He pouts.

"They're my friends. You will be nice. That poor Hyuuga girl looked like she was going to pass out earlier." Blue eyes, dark gray in the silver light, regard me darkly. "I would've had to cover the hospital bills after Kiba ripped your dick off." I scoff. That mutt? Please.

I can't keep back a low chuckle at the absurdity, "I would slay him."

Naruto grins again, and I'm momentarily blinded by his proximity. I didn't realize we were so huddled by the building. I'm looming over him, his back nearly against the dirty brick wall as he stares defiantly into my eyes.

"You would try. Kiba's a beast. That's why he's my co-pilot." Naruto turns to unlock the door and I wipe the frown off my face. Apathy is key.

He opens the door, and my senses are immediately overwhelmed. It's another crush of people, however much less crowded, with a thick, sweet fog of smoke lacing the air, mixed with the scent of beer and liquor. I inhale deeply, already getting high off the fumes. It's been a long time since my last house party, and that was a sordid affair.

Next to me, a brunette girl sucks intensely at a freshly rolled blunt. She offers, and I take it gratefully. Naruto cocks his brow at me, warm eyes wide with surprise.

"Oho, so rich boy knows how to party, aye?" He grins heatedly at me, passing me what could easily be a triple shot.

He leans in close, too close, and whispers in my ear. "I'm gunna get you fucked up, Uchiha." I snort, and the blond sucks up the released smoke. He gingerly takes the blunt from my fingers, frozen from the intimate contact, sucks deeply through his mouth, and, letting the smoke billow out, inhales it deeply through his nostrils.

An expert at the French Inhale. A delicious shiver runs down my spine, and we clink glasses before downing all three shots at once. Its gin. It instantly combusts my belly in flames. Combined with the weed, my vision warps wonderfully. Naruto is leading me through the crowds. The girls gasp as I pass. One in particular, with a brighter glint in her eye, watches me predatorily. She's slim, with cropped pink hair that falls around her pale face and lightly made-up bright green eyes. By all accounts, she's pretty. But not my…type.

I feel him brush my shoulder. The drinks are buzzing inside me, spreading warmth through my limbs. Naruto's blond hair scatters a warm scent through the air, and I notice he's touching me a lot. Whether it's a hand on my arm or my back, leading me through the crowd, or a friendly bump and press every once in a while, he keeps making contact.

His shoulder bumps my chest as he animatedly talks to someone, and I no longer have control over my body. Blame it on the alcohol. My fingers just barely graze up along his arm. He stills for the briefest moment, and I feel him shiver. I smirk, and at the first opportunity he whirls to face me. His huge eyes search mine.

"You're not drunk enough." He concludes, and pushes a beer into my hand. I welcome it.

I smirk, "Are you planning on taking advantage of me?" I ignore the slight slur to my words as I gulp my beer.

He grins, not answering, and it sends a pike through my chest.

No. Oh, yes.

Then the pink-haired girl is in front of me, blowing smoke through delicate nostrils. She owns a fat blunt between her lips. Making sure to kiss its end thoroughly, she offers it my way.

A hand snatches it before I can smirk and take it; Naruto puffs on it, greeting the girl amorously. I blink, dumbfounded. I have excellent intuition. This smells…interesting.

My smirk widens when Naruto glares for a second in my direction, then keeps the girl, by the name of Sakura, far from me.

While he's keeping her occupied, another, blonde this time, approaches.

She hands me another beer, and I notice mine was empty.

"You're welcome," she admonishes playfully when I don't thank her, instead gulping the foam off the top. I nod in her general direction.

"My name's Ino." She flutters her lashes at me, and I look around. Naruto's now glaring at me from the group he's been sucked into. I smirk evilly his way and turn my power on the blonde.

She's pretty enough; with a sleek straight platinum ponytail too brilliant to be natural and large, make-up covered blue eyes. Attractive enough, but even Pinkie was more my type.

This is purely for fun.

She tangibly brightens, starting off about her life and problems. I nod occasionally, keeping my attentions on Naruto. He finally approaches, fuming, and I bite my lip to cover my smile. Yes, smile. This is just too funny. I chug the dregs of my second beer, and fifth drink. Fuck, I'm twisted.

When he reaches us, he puts a friendly hand on each of our shoulders, "Hey Ino, how's it going?" She launches herself at him, and I'm taken slightly aback. He holds her a few seconds too long, grinning impishly at me.

I remove my scowl, opting to go neutral and drink. Once free, Naruto hands the blunt to Ino, who passes it, with obvious suggestiveness, to me. I take a huge pull, feeling it cloud my lungs with sweet, thick smoke. It goes straight to my already fuzzy head. I haven't drunk this much since…ever.

Before I know it, Naruto is pulling me away from the girl, stopping to get another couple shots. We take them immediately, facing each other solemnly.

There is something about this guy. Something different. Something that's kept me following him, even though I hate the crowds. Even though I don't follow anyone but myself. Even though I'm perpetually solitary. Even though I should be on my way out of this hellhole. The now amber liquid flows fire through my torso, and I'm engulfed in blue eyes. I'm too selfish not to. Aren't I?

He grins, and then he's pulling me deeper into the house. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a drunken Hinata actually laughing out loud, publicly, at some joke the mutt made. I snort, then am distracted by Naruto's jewel eyes. He leads me forward with those eyes.

We're in a dark room. A bedroom. It's very dimly lit.

"Sorry," he grins almost weakly, "I need a quick break." I stare at him.

He pats the bed next to him. "Sit." It must be my drunkenness, because I feel my body comply without time for my mind to stop it.

He sighs. "Have fun?"

I stare at him.

He smiles, "good." He stretches, and his muscles strain his shirt. "See, people aren't so bad."

I'm on autopilot, unconscious of what I say until I hear it from my lips, "Some."

This has his attention. Finally. He's searching my face, dilated pupils boring into mine.

"Me?" It's a breath.

"The worst." I hold mine.

He grins, and something begins to pound the back of my head.

He scoots closer, and the pounding grows louder. What. He explores my eyes, and I feel like a moth to light, "So, what happened to you?"

Bam!

Reality smacks me in the face.

I feel my face twist.

"This was how you planned on taking advantage of me? Getting me drunk to extract information?" My voice is low, and heavily slurred.

His eyes are wide, surprised, then undeniably guilty.

I can't tell whether I want to be angry, or laugh. Something in-between grips me, and I stand too quickly. My vision drains into blackness and I grip the wall to steady myself. I feel the fire of his hands on me, keeping me upright, and jerk away from him. The room is spinning.

"Hey, hey-" He's gripping my face, and I'm trying clumsily to shake him off. No one should ever touch me, especially him.

I need to get away from everything, especially him. I've been surrounded by too many people. It was too much. I let my guard down.

"Sasuke." The low authority in his voice is what pauses me, and he's finally able to lock my eyes in his, "You've got the spins. Just focus on one spot, you'll be fine."

I focus on his gaze. I can't figure him out. What's his angle? What's his ploy?

What does he want?

Easy as pie. Information on the Akatsuki.

He insists on touching me. Doesn't he know? Can't he tell?

I try to buck him off, try to grasp my sanity, but he comes at me again, all tan skin and sunlight hair and big, blue eyes. His hands are on my chest. He can feel my throbbing heart, and it registers wondrously in those gleaming eyes.

I can't.

I must.

Before even I know what's happening, I whirl us and slam him into the wall, shoving my legs between his and practically lifting him from the floor. My mouth is on his, crushing our lips together. I press my aching groin to his, sealing our bodies together, and he emits a low groan into my mouth. I invade his mouth, sucking his tongue and roaming my hands down his waist.

Reaching the supple mounds of his ass, I grab a side in each hand, prying his legs apart and pushing him flat against the wall with my hips. I grind headily into him. He wraps his legs around me, and I'm utterly lost, stroking everywhere I can possibly touch: his face, his chest, his arms, squeezing his ass and running my hands up his shirt.

He gives out another delicious moan and I gasp, my hips moving rhythmically now. I damn my clothes. His hips angle up to meet mine in glorious friction. I'm hard now, ready to burst. I feel his substantial erection rub lusciously against mine under our jeans, and I release a low whine into his lips. This fuels him, and he thrusts faster, his hands reaching my back. I stiffen.

He stops, and I pull, panting, my lips from his. He looks into my eyes, and defiantly runs tender hands up my shirt and across my scarred, broken back. His face contorts as he feels my scars, and I can't bear to look at him any more. Erection forgotten in a drunken stupor, I begin to release him.

"No you fucking don't." Naruto's deep growl snaps me to face him, and he hooks his legs around my waist, effectively trapping me.

He's caught my eyes, refusing to let me go. "You got me hard, now take responsibility, bastard." He tightens his legs around me, and I feel his girth poke mine. My lower belly stirs, and I smirk carefully at him.

He pouts and grinds into my hips, eliciting a gasp from me. Then, purposefully, he yanks his hands under my shirt again and begins to stroke my back gently, tenderly. Our eyes are still connected. I lean low, and let him close the remaining distance between our lips. At contact, a fire explodes from somewhere forgotten in my chest, and I thrust him with all my lust into the wall. I reinstate the rhythm, and soon we're both panting hard, echoes of each other, breaths mingling.

I reach the edge. From nowhere, our hands find each other, clasping tightly and I press his arm with mine over his head. He groans, and I kiss his neck; he tastes delicious. I swirl my tongue on his skin, and he clutches my hair.

"Ah," I've reached my breaking point, and from his frantic kisses, his desperate hips, it seems he has as well. I feel the need charge through his body. It charges along mine too, and looking directly into my eyes, He combusts around me, crushing me to him, watching me through the pleasure that sweeps him away. He cries my name. Then I'm gone too, moaning incoherently into his straining neck as white light blinds me.

We collapse, a drunken tangle of arms and legs, to the floor. I black out, my arm warm from his panting body, as he sighs peacefully into my chest.

_What have I done?_

_._

* * *

**Some sound advice children;**

**'Beer before liquor, never been sicker;'**

**Liquor before beer, you're in the clear.'**

**.**

**Love.**

**Bright Eyed**


	8. Eight

**8: Hinata**

**.**

**.**

This is my first time being drunk. I know I'm drunk, because of the buzz in my skull, coupled with the warmth in my belly and the extra-careful way Kiba handles me.

He doesn't let me touch him too much, now. I pout, freshly extracted from a secluded hallway to which I tried luring him. He bit, but had too much sense to be phased by my feeble attempts at seduction. It is such an exclusive art.

I gaze imploringly at him.

He's the first guy I've ever wanted to have sex with.

His chocolate brown eyes fall on me, and that look takes over his face. That look is a big reason I want him so much. I can see from a single glance just how much he wants me. But then, when I press my breasts against his chest, or trap his eyes on my lips, he blinks, smiles, and gently removes the offending hands, gripping them and kissing my knuckles.

I will get him, though, damnnit.

I narrow my eyes, thinking hard. What would be impossible to say no to?

I stare into my drink, and I suddenly know what I need to do. I chug the rest of my beer, relishing its bitter sweetness.

When I finish, slowly licking froth off my upper lip, he's staring at me. Desire has a chokehold in his eyes. Now!

I smile, and blink my eyes like I saw the other girls at the party doing. He is looking yummy. _Yes_, I stifle a giggle. Yummy indeed. His hair is ruffled wildly, his muscled chest pressing against his shirt, his chapped red lips twisted wryly. His dark eyes on me.

I bite my lip.

I lean up to his ear, careful to graze my breast against his arm, "I'm going to get another drink."

Before he can offer to get one from a ready friend for me, or something else to stall me, I wade off into the crowd. He immediately follows me. A token of his determination to keep me safe: he's not left my side all night. Internally, I glow. It's working!

I've discovered this new side to myself. Not only am I now almost constantly visible, I feel…capable. I suspect it has something to do with him.

However, that idea isn't becoming. Am I destined to a life of dependence? Can I not even fend for myself?

I blink the thoughts away. He's caught on, catching my arm, but a second too late. We're away from the party. He turns me to face him, and I reorganize my face. It also seems a second too late; His brow furls and I'm quick to distract him, giving in at last to the nagging voice at the back of my head that demands I launch myself at him at the earliest availability.

Which is now.

I steel myself, and square my shoulders. I raise my eyes to his dark ones, stalling him with the pull of my gaze, and he shifts warily. I see the internal battle in his eyes: he's fighting, hard. The thought bubbles excitement across my chest.

"Kiba," I whisper it. It's to show my need. I need him, now. I pull him closer, and he stares into my eyes. He doesn't pull away.

My heart beats faster.

He stills. I try it again.

"Kiba,"

His head snaps to face me, and there's something new in his eyes, something intensely dark. I gasp against his neck; and that's it.

He moans oh-so softly, gives up, and grips my waist deliciously firmly, the battle brimming over on his face. I take my shot.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I press against him and seal our lips. I feel sealed. His hands travel sensuously up my back, and he growls from deep inside his chest.

Those adoring hands turn firmer, coarsely pulling me from him.

I'm flattened. His eyes turn sharp, and he frowns at me.

"You're drunk."

I squint at him.

"Yes."

There's no denying it. I lift my eyes to his. But…

"You are too." I twist my hands together, still aching slightly from the rough separation.

He steps a little closer.

"Yes. But not as much as you."

I squint at him again, then my eyes meet my shoes. Its true. The heat from my tummy licks up my throat.

Tender, calloused fingers skim my cheek. "It would be wrong." His eyes are conflicted.

I still want him. I watch his reaction, and press my hand against the juncture of his collarbone and neck. He only sighs warily, tense, and I grip his shirt. I press my forehead against his chest.

"I want you." Just so it's perfectly clear, "and not because I'm drunk. I'm not that drunk. This is my fourth beer." I pout at him.

"Yes, but you have no tolerance for alcohol. You were tipsy after one beer." He can't resist a glowing grin. It breaks my fragile control. I inch closer.

He looks anywhere but at me; I grimace when he reaches for his watch. I've been quite aware of the passage of precious time. I am a sponge for his presence. Maybe, if I soak up enough, I'll have strength to fuel my own power, independently.

He turns to me, eyes urgent. "It's 3:30. Dawn's in a couple hours." I feel a weight suddenly push into my chest, leaving me breathless. I would have to leave him.

He slips his fingers in mine, intertwining them, and smiles at me. I nod. "Time to go."

The walk back to the house takes about an hour, and I grip his arm the whole way. He is like a charm, or a dream catcher. No one approaches us. The shadows see him, know him, and leave us alone. I press my face to his arm. I'm sleepy, my head pulsating steadily. Kiba eyes me concernedly,

"You feeling okay?"

I smile and nod curtly, he quirks his brow. We reach my balcony. Its a thousand years too soon.

"Very convincing, Miss Hyuuga."

Its my turn to quirk my brow.

"Don't you care? My family, I mean."

He shakes his head, "It terrifies me." He shrugs, as if it's nothing.

I try to control my face as it scrunches painfully. "Me too."

He pulls me to him, "But I've never been one to be swayed by fear." He's looking intently into my eyes.

My heart is fit to burst. It's well past overdrive. He thumbs my cheek carefully, eyes still boring into mine.

Leaning in, ever so slightly, his lips cover mine. It's gentle, slow and languidly unraveling me as he holds me in his arms, secure. I feel faint, and as he breaks the too-brief contact I vaguely remember to breathe.

He grins, and the intimate proximity means I get the brunt of its glory. My hands fist into his shirt. I'm losing coherency pretty quickly, drunk as I am. Last chance.

"Tuck me in?"

The look in his eyes is heartbreaking.

"I'll carry you up. You're too drunk to climb." I sulk, but a look at the steep climb keeps me from protest. He crouches, and my heart is pounding. I giddily climb onto his back, and to my impression he lifts me easily, even all the way up the vine. I grip him tighter than strictly necessary, pressing my nose against his back and memorizing his scent.

I sincerely hope this isn't all just a dream.

If only I could get him in my bed. I will my desire at him, trying to push it into his mind. I press my breasts against his back, holding him tighter as he shivers, climbing over the railing. I clamber off of him, but grip his hand. I can't let go. Not now. My eyes implore him.

I kiss his knuckles, running sensitive fingertips under his jacket sleeve.

"Tuck me in. Please?"

He pulls me in, and I actually feel his partial erection against my belly. It sends lava through my veins. My hands, now at his back, tempt me to explore lower. His voice is low, hoarse with need, "You'll never know how much I want to," He runs a fiery hand carefully along my back, cupping my butt as I gasp, desire flooding my system.

"But that's why I can't." It's his turn to plead.

"I want to do _this_," he grips me, insecure of my reaction to the commitment that simple word implies; I glow, "The right way. Which means," He plants a lovely, teasing kiss on my lips, then up my wrist to my tingling fingertips, "No rush." He searches my eyes.

I can't deny him. The fact that he wants '_this'_, something between us beyond this magic night, is breathtaking. I grip him firmly, with the tragic suspicion that this now must be a dream.

"Come back." I feel my strain etch my face. He burrows his head into my neck, "Of course." In a moment of incredible bravery. I run my hands everywhere I can reach, memorizing his feel, his scent, and his breathing quickens. His pupils dilate visibly, despite the wan light.

He pulls gently, barely constrained, away. Tension rolls off his shoulders. I bite my lip, and he clears his throat. The sound is feral, and it wakes another assault of desire through me.

"Goodnight, my Lady, Hinata." He smiles wryly at me through his control, and I melt.

"Goodnight, Kiba." He walks away, climbing down the vine without another look, hackles still raised and on edge.

I stalk back to my room and throw myself into my bed's amiable depths. I'm way too drunk for this. The ceiling swirls above my head. I close my eyes.

XXXXXX-

The light is bluish. It's still dark. I'm barely lucid.

He's kissing my neck, his weight carefully pressed over me. I know in my very soul that it's him. I let him in, shifting my legs to wrap around him. He stills, then kisses me desperately, and his breath carries the new, sharp sweet bitterness of hard liquor, while I'm sure mine carries old beer. I tug his bottom lip, and he moans into my mouth.

"I'll tuck you in whenever you want, _sweet_ princess." There's an unmistakable slur in his tone. "Just say the word." I gasp his name in reply. My hands reach for his shirt, but he pins my arms with one hand, the other unbuttoning, then peeling off my jeans. He kisses my lips, my jaw, my neck, my chest, his lips nipping the tender flesh there, sparking flames shooting straight to my groin. I moan my need of him.

"Please,"

He releases my hands, and they roam his hair as he kisses a fiery trail down my belly. He pauses above my sex, his breath coming hard, blowing gently, intoxicatingly on me. I wiggle my hips, desperate for him to continue. I want him.

He runs his hands from my chest, over my pulsing breasts, across my belly, to pull my panties off. I gasp, more exposed than ever. He groans, running worshiping hands over my legs and hips. He leans, and in one fell swoop that nearly shatters me, he kisses my sex. I whimper.

At the sound, Kiba grips me harder, growling low in his chest, and spreads me wide. I cry out. He flicks his tongue over my clitoris, and I can't control my mouth. In my fog I register the thought, I sound like a porn star.

My heart is in my throat, warping my cries as he swirls an agile tongue over my entrance, dipping in, out and back up to my most sensitive spot. I'm pulling at his curls, hanging on for dear life. His hands are strong on my legs. He pushes me slowly, mercilessly to the edge with just his tongue and his expert hands, which roam my body, spreading the sensation. I'm nearly at my limit. He blows on my clit, inciting a deep moan from me, and sucks suddenly at it. He is my destruction.

I come undone under his tender touch, my back arching from the bed, convulsing and crying out his name as my world comes apart; then re-forms itself in a new order.

"Oh, Kiba," I sigh, and he kisses me roughly. I can taste myself in his kiss. I feel the solidity of his erection against my hyper-sensitive groin and moan into his lips. His need is mind-blowing. It must be painful. I reach for his jeans, but my fingers barely graze the material before, as suddenly as he appeared, he vanishes into the night. I fall into blackness.

I wake up to a gray-dawn sky.

I touch my lips:

Was it a dream?

* * *

**Hey.**

**So let me know what you think of the story so far; I welcome love and flames, as long as it's constructive...**

**.**

**Love.**

**Bright Eyed**


	9. Nine

**9: Naruto**

**.**

**.**

**.**

I remember, for most of the night, being inhumanly warm. But that's about it.

I wake up in my bed, a blanket thrown over me, but I'm cold. And alone.

I roll out from under the sheets, fighting a pounding head, and head to the bathroom.

I change my pants and boxers from the soiled ones, jump in the shower, then slink outside.

I already know.

He's long gone.

Stupid motherfucker. Just because it's morning doesn't mean the city's not still unduly dangerous, especially for someone like him.

The spawn of the devil.

The guy who just dry-fucked my brains out. When I reach the end of the hall, turning into the kitchen, I notice Kiba face-first on the countertop, nursing a hangover with a steaming cup of coffee and a pitcher of water. Stirring something bubbling on the stove, Chouji grins too-happily at me. Shikamaru, next to him, scowls. He's fully dressed, in a button-up and slacks for his internship gig at Town Hall.

Assistant to the Mayor, and one of few within the city with college prospects. He also has an IQ test above 180. That's what it takes to get above this muck. Inhuman cognitive abilities. I'm fucked, then. I chuckle internally.

I sit at the breakfast bar.

Then I hear the news, cackling through the speakers of our shared, and ancient, TV set. Of course, the pale sulky kid's on the front lines. My mouth drops open.

He'd had the entire city buzzing about his 'disappearance". He had, apparently, just been found this morning. I squint balefully at the stupid TV. What did I get myself into? Half of the police force had been out all night, searching for him. His brother had given a public announcement of his arrival at the Uchiha compound earlier this morning.

Fuck.

Whoever he was running so anxiously from, the ones who let those terrible scars mar his body, they had finally caught up to him.

Shit.

I press a weary thumb and forefinger to my pulsing head. I know what I have to do. I really don't want to. It'll be more grief than he's worth. Right? I think about Sasuke. With a flush, I recall last night's heated encounter, and my flush deepens as I remember how desperate I was for him. How desperate I still, apparently, am. I shudder, and stare at the bowl of porridge Shikamaru places in front of me.

"Worried?" He smirks at me, and I give him the finger.

Kiba groans beside me. "Fuck that asshole."

I can't help the bile that threatens up my throat, "You don't know him, Kiba." There's more tension in my voice than I care to acknowledge. Kiba perks. They could be torturing him right now. Without looking at his arched brow look, first to me, then to Shikamaru, I chug my porridge.

"Thanks, Shika." I grin at him, and then step towards the door, "I'm off. I have to see about a bastard."

Kiba stands shakily, "I'm going."

Once we're outside, he turns to me, and I can hear the curiosity in his voice, "So you really care that much about this guy?" It's burning in his eyes. I feel my brow furrow.

"I guess so. Damn." He looks sidelong at me as we traverse a special shortcut. I flip open my phone. "He's the only survivor known."

Kiba gapes at me. "What?"

I nod solemnly.

"That's why." I don't mention what happened. He…doesn't need to know. Not yet. "I'm calling Sai."

"How? Why?" Kiba's face is strained, "Why did they go for him?" For some reason, I have the faint inclination he's not particularly worried about Sasuke.

I shrug, "Why do you think I got him so drunk? Even then, he wouldn't spill." Kiba sighs. "Fuck."

Yeah…_that's_ why I got him so drunk. Damn, I'm brilliant.

"We need him." I block my thoughts. _We_ need him. Right. He nods, agreeing. "You calling Sai?"

"You know it." I grin at him and dial.

"_Hello_."

"Aye, Sai. I need everything you can get me on Uchiha Sasuke, such as current whereabouts. Oh, and Sharingan Co. Just do a full sweep, por favor." I feel his cold gaze from the other side of the line. "I'll owe you dinner for a month." There goes half my paycheck. Granny's gunna kill me.

I feel his smirk. "_Done. It'll be ready when you get here_."

I grin at Kiba and hang up. "Done and done." He grins mischievously back. "You know, I've really warmed up to him."

We work our way through the maze of buildings and end up on the south side of the Red Light District, at the very heart of the city. This is the busiest, richest part of the District, which is saying a lot.

Wearing a black t-shirt, jeans and Kiba something along those lines, we're a bit out of place riding the glass elevator.

There are beautiful men and women everywhere. Sai lives in the penthouse of the biggest brothel in Konoha. He is the heir of a sexual empire.

He's quite a character, as well; he took some getting used to.

We waltz carefully past a couple of gorgeous, nearly naked women, accompanied by whom I believe to be the chief of police, entering a Presidential suite. I toss him a wink in passing. I couldn't help it. Kiba snickers next to me.

We finally reach the Penthouse. It's comprised of nearly the entire top third of the building, two 15-foot high floors and an outdoor wonderland on the roof. All this belongs to Sai.

Four years ago, Sai's Mother, Father and Brother were shot to death while he was out one night. He had been planning on running away, and had left on bad terms.

He inherited everything. We met him a year after that.

He built his Father's business into an empire, and almost a year ago today all the perpetrators of the murders were found strung up in parts in the street. His weird darkness has alleviated ever since.

He opens the grand door, all pale skin and dark eyes and inky hair. He smirks at our greeting grins.

"Come into the back."

We reach a cozy alcove of a study, and plop down on Sai's beaten leather couches. Next to me, Kiba sniffs the air, and raises a brow at Sai. I smell it too, and grin.

Sai hands me an elaborately carved wood-and-glass bong. "Its new." I hear the pride in his voice, although his face is impassive as always. "Nice." I hand it back to him, and he gives me a thick parcel. I flip it open, and see Sasuke's frighteningly chill face. Sai lights the end, and I hear the bubbling of the percolator.

"Taken this morning." He looks at me, smoke drifting out of his nostrils. He passes it to me, eyes still on mine. "He has some mean friends. Almost got my photographer."

I gulp. He's still looking at my face; my eyes are trained on the pictures. Sasuke was with two men; one is lean, with a twisted, beautiful face and long blond hair. The other is huge and an ashy pale color. Scars line his neck and his yellow eyes are beady under spiky, dark blue hair. They're wearing tailored suits, with patterned breast pocket kerchiefs tucked carefully in their jackets.

The cloud.

Operating in broad daylight.

Sai is like granite. I take a hit, and pass the beautiful piece to Kiba. "Do you know what you're getting yourself into, Naruto?"

Sai's voice is low, and I look at him. He's deadpan, but I've come to realize that's when he's most emotional. I can't say. I smile.

"That's what this is for." I purposefully flip through a couple more pictures. I discover one of Sasuke meeting his brother. "Uchiha Itachi." I can sense the beginnings of stress in his voice. "He's one of the nastiest."

Kiba shakes his head mournfully, "All those Akatsuki…What kind of sicko company does this kid keep?"

I bite my lip. Fuck. This is deeper shit than I imagined. This means that the Uchiha and Sharingan Co are working collaboratively with the gang. I flip through the rest of the information while we pass the bong around.

Sharingan Co had been growing steadily by thirteen percent for the last four years. This is a breakneck rate for such a huge company; literally. They were notorious for their control over the police force, but not only financially. Their ancestors were famous Police heroes of Konoha.

Sai's phone beeps, and he taps the screen. "Sasuke's been spotted entering a café downtown." Black eyes watch mine carefully, "He's got quite an entourage."

He slips the technology in his back pocket, picks up the packet, and starts putting on his shoes. "This looks interesting." Kiba and I stand.

"Lets do this." I swallow.

What the fuck am I doing?

Well, technically this coincides with my own objectives of figuring out who the Akatsuki are.

"Where are we taking him?" I think a moment. "Somewhere they can't reach him. Somewhere safe. I can't put Iruka and the kids in this kind of danger by bringing him back to the bookstore."

"We can put him in my parent's country home." Sai shrugs as if he's just announced he'd cover my tab. He taps his phone a few times and gets someone on the phone. He motions us to start heading out.

Kiba swallows fatefully. "So what, we just nab him in the middle of everything and run to the country house?" He shakes his head, "we need a plan, man."

Sai rolls his eyes, "I have a car. I'll wait in a back alley while Naruto gets his attention and you grab him." Kiba grunts and shrugs. "Sounds pretty solid."

I sulk, "Why am I always the distraction?"

They both arch a brow at me, and I stick my tongue out at them. Assholes. The distraction was also the most likely to end up with a black eye.

We climb into Sai's roomy sports car, a classic black, and we're at the café in minutes. It's in the nicest part of town. But there is a maze of alleyways, even up here, and Sai eases a few streets away from the back of the café.

I take a deep breath, getting into my zone. My muscles flex and twitch. Kiba's the same. I shake my head, and we enter the front door authoritatively. I notice Sasuke immediately, his head jerks slightly and he stills. His aura is icy. His brother and henchmen don't notice my entrance; the blue one looks bigger in real life. Sasuke looks tired, sick, and starved; he hasn't eaten anything off his plate. He's ghostly. I cringe internally.

I lock eyes with an approaching waiter. He looks ready to throw us out, probably because of our casual dress. Even Sauske is carefully and smartly dressed.

"I want a table next to the window. Lots of light." The man gapes at me, and I furl my brow and add a low authority, "now, if you plan on keeping your job." The words process on the waiter's face for a moment, before it's replaced by a calculative bow and he shows us to the table next to Sasuke's.

I feel his pull. It's intoxicating, even now.

The waiter turns to leave, "Sir. Two coffees, pronto."

Kiba snickers and I grin at him as the waiter glares and stalks away.

I lean to Kiba, "Don't eat anything they give you, lest we ingest spit or pubes." He shudders and nods, then heads off to the 'bathroom'.

I spot my unfortunate target. He's a younger man, a handsome waiter, with a noxious over-confidence that makes me smirk at his fate. He's barreling my way carrying a fully over-loaded tray of plates on one arm, and just as he's about to pass me, I stick a cruel toe in his path.

Utter chaos erupts; mission accomplished. The plates, silverware, and food pitches violently forward in a storm of shattering glass and spilled food. It lands right on target, too, showering the Uchiha party completely and surprising the bastard's brother and henchmen long enough for Kiba to slip behind Sasuke and drag him into the shadows.

Ha. I exit out the front, and sprint to catch up to Kiba and Sasuke as we break for the car. We make it within a couple seconds, and Sai slams the gas so we fly into obscurity.

That was easier than expected. I'm grinning ear-to-ear, along with Kiba and Sai's smirking proudly from the driver's seat. Next to me, Sasuke's fuming.

"What the _fuck_ was _that_?"

"_That_ was a rescue mission." I leer at him, and as he glares darkly at me his knee presses mine. His eyes flutter and I'm knocked momentarily breathless. Fuck, he's powerful.

Kiba, wonderfully oblivious of what just passed between us, bumps me closer to him, "And a damn good one, too. They didn't see it coming."

Sasuke rolls his eyes, "Of course they saw it coming."

The blood freezes in my veins. "What?"

Sasuke seals his lips, his eyes on mine, then sighs. "They're letting me go; for now." I watch him carefully.

"What do you mean?" He shrugs, something more hateful than I can understand growing lecherously in his eyes, "That's the game he likes to play. Until Orochimaru decides to interfere again."

I feel my open mouth's too wide gape and shut it with a decisive 'click'. Fuck me, he spoke.

"Who's Orochimaru?" I push him, and I feel him close off. I won't be getting anything else from him today.

I direct my attention to Sai, "Sai, how far is this country home?" Black eyes catch mine from the rear-view mirror.

"Another hour or so."

I sigh deeply. What to do from there? We can't stay there forever.

"Drive around the city a bit, then head over there. We have to make sure they're not following us." Sasuke scoffs from the corner seat, and I send him a silencing punch.

His returning glare has me aflame.

Kiba clears his throat from my other side, "Uhh, could you…drop me off?" I look at him questioningly, and he shrugs. I think I see a hint of a blush across his cheeks, and it sprouts a grin across my face, "Ooh, Miss Hyuuga, huh? What'd _you_ do last night?" His blush deepens and I laugh out loud.

He rams me and I end up practically falling over the Uchiha's lap, him shoving me off while Kiba attacks me from the front and Sai admonishes us all has me cracking up, and soon we're all laughing. I glance and Sasuke; he's been throwing me looks this whole time.

I don't know if I want to throw them back.

Only this morning, he left without a word. I make the mistake of meeting his eyes.

He smirks at me, and those stone-cold black eyes capture me forcibly.

I'm taken down; and like a hole punched through a hot-air balloon:

I fall.

.

.

.


	10. Ten

**10: Kiba**

**.**

**.**

**.**

I watch them speed away without me, however I'm left with no hollow ache. Only spreading warmth that I would see her again so soon, followed closely by a sharp stab of infernal guilt. I lost control last night; I needed her so much, then I turned for relaxation to a bottle I'd stashed in my pocket earlier, and next thing I know I'm staring at her. Reason left me. Even now, it's difficult, remembering her cries, her need… I snort and shake my head; she was pretty loud.

If she doesn't detest me, I'll hope to one day see how far I can go with that. Her lure pulls me through the maze, and I rush to the compound.

When I reach the balcony, I crouch in wait. She would be expecting me sometime today, hopefully. If I didn't scare her away by attacking her last night. I exhale through my teeth, silently reprimanding my lack of control. What if she doesn't want to see me again?

I decide it wiser not to think of that. Soon enough, as the first streams of magnificent color streak the setting sky, I see her blue-night hair grasp the tugging wind. A smile seeds on my lips. Her pale eyes reflect the patterned sky as she searches for me. My chest clenches.

She's not smiling. In fact, her eyes are stressed and cold and lined with red. I motion to come up, and I see the hesitance in her eyes. She finally nods, and I'm stiff on my feet. The climb takes forever, and my stomach drops with every step. She hates me. Fuck. I messed up.

I can barely look at her.

She seems somewhere similar.

My throat closes painfully.

Her eyes flick from me to inside her room, glinting with urgency.

She presses her fisted hands on my chest, and I'm paralyzed by her behavior. She whispers in my ear, "Don't," and then looks meaningfully from me to the inside of her room. What? Not to go in? Who was in her room, and why was she afraid of them? My hackles rise.

She asks aloud, though quietly, "W-Would you st-step inside a m-moment, Kiba, -I," she looks tired, worn out, "I need to d-discuss something with y-you."

She looks strained and harassed. I, as carefully as possible, brush her fingers with mine, and she shivers at my touch.

I look in her eyes. I think I know what's going on. Either way, I need a word with whoever has her looking like this. I'm angry, but the anger is a relief from the crushing void that threatened before.

She sees it on me and grimaces, "Yes," I say, and grasp her hand. She doesn't want to go inside. I turn to the entrance, and despite my pounding heart, I'm not surprised by the lean, willowy yet imposing figure enthroned in one of the fancy couches of Hinata's room. Long, rich chestnut brown hair, obviously meticulously cared for, flows liquidly down his back.

Familiar, yet much colder, pale eyes regard me icily.

Ah, the infamous Hyuuga Neji.

I smile, though only half actually makes it onto my face and it comes out lopsided. Shit, does he look mad. Next to me, Hinata withers and I understand why she hates her family life. It must be so cold, so lonely.

I remember my manners, and approach him with my hand outstretched, "Nice to meet you, I'm Inuzuka Kiba."

I try a smile.

I'm met with resistance.

His carved marble complexion is immobile and unreadable. I feel the animosity radiate off him, and grimace.

He watches me; a hawk nestled threateningly in ornate upholstery.

"Hyuuga Neji. Though I hope you realized that. Do you have an idea of why I wanted to speak with you?" His voice carries the polished condescension of the big business hierarchy.

I press my lips to keep them straight. I'd given it some thought, and it had to be it.

I squint dubiously at the filthy rich corporate fucker in front of me, suddenly livid at all of it. She'd told me about the nightmares. Hadn't he heard those?

"You- …heard something, perhaps?" I try for sheepish, and next to me, I think Hinata's going into cardiac arrest.

The air in front of me, surrounding Neji, hardens and chills well below zero.

"Quite right."

"My apologies. I _do_ hope you managed at least some sleep."

I stand my ground, shoulders squared, and watch his expressions solemnly.

"Who are you to see my cousin?"

Hinata squeezes my arm, and it's almost painful. She releases me, and steps forward.

"T-…" she tries again, "That's none of your concern, cousin." Her stare is impressive, and not-to-be-fucked-with. I beam at her internally.

"But it is, Hinata." His tone with her is musing, "who, or _what_," with an icy glare at me, "you interact with effects us all." He gestures grandly around him and I feel my nose twitch.

I smirk, and it thinly veils my anger. My mouth opens to speak, but Hinata beats me to it.

"No." It's a solid statement. "You've never concerned yourself with me, and so you have no say now." Her face is intense and determined, and even I blink at her force, "You owe it to me, you'll leave this alone."

"Not when your little 'friend' is plotting the downfall of our beloved, hard-earned company, my _lovely_ cousin." The sneer in his tone ignites my temper further. Boy, I want to beat the shit out of him.

He glares directly into my eyes, "There is a massive boycott out on all Hyuuga and Uchiha-owned stores and products. Profits have been down forty percent today. The food deserts just aren't holding up. The elders will soon be on their deathbeds." He shrugs, "Although it won't last. People need groceries and medicine eventually, and not at the price of importation to the city. Most trucks and train lines are Hyuuga-owned and operated."

This further inflames me; he's proposing a starve-out method of recovery of clientele. Should I mention the recent prevalence of private, potted gardens among inner city residents?

Yeah. We planned for that.

"_Your_ business, thus far, cousin, and as far as I'm concerned my opinion has never been considered as to the direction of the corporation. Although I assure you, that will change. Now you _will_ excuse me, I have company." With that, the longest I think I've heard her speak, Hinata effectively dismisses her intimidating cousin, and her face is liberated. She's free, and she glows.

He raises an aristocratic brow at her, smirks pointedly at her, then me, and to my surprise, he leaves without another word.

I turn in silent surprise, and relief, to her. She approaches me carefully. Her ravens' wing hair flutters like a cape at her shoulders. I love this strength on her. Part of it is seeing just how much she loves it.

Her huge, multicolored eyes meet mine. She's apprehensive. "Are you mad?"

I blink at her, "Why would I be?" She shrugs, and her eyes meet her squirming toes. I just want to gather her up in my arms; the thought has my blood pressure building and I inch towards her, my eyes on hers.

"You just got ambushed by my overbearing cousin."

I can't help the barking laugh that escapes me. "Yeah, that wasn't so bad." I, under no cognitive control, manage to lean further toward her. What am I doing. To my delight, she's more than happy to fold her arms around me.

"Ambush implies surprise." I grin impishly at her, "I had a warning." I nuzzle her neck, and love her small pleasured gasp, "And a champion for my cause," she sighs, and I'm endlessly comfortable pressed against her neck, my arms around her.

She smiles, and my chest tightens as I pull an awry strand of midnight hair in place.

She goes in for the kill, smooth as only a princess can command, and her soft-as-silk lips press mine. I'm lost, blown out of the water, and I'm the luckiest man alive.

I grip her waist and she moans softly into my mouth; I take the opportunity to deepen the kiss. My tongue meets hers for the first time, and I relish her taste. My hands are on their own volition, roaming her supple curves freely. I just can't stop them. She's exploring the skin of my back while I ripple out in gooseflesh, I'm shivering into her sweet touch; my body melds to hers.

Suddenly I realize I've pressed her down into her bed, and she's pulling me forward, on her, she's nipping and tugging my lips, our bodies melted into one sensuous being; I hate clothes now and forever.

Her legs twist around me, gripping me in a vise-like trap against her and she flips us.

She never ceases to amaze me.

My shy, gorgeous little princess is on top.

Shit. The view itself is having…repercussions. I squirm to get out from under her, only actually making the friction worse. But she grips my shoulders and sucks at my mouth and I'm lost again, steadily growing and she finally gasps when she figures out why this was a…bad position.

Her wide, pale eyes meet mine and she looks amused. She makes no move to _not_ sit directly atop my erection. I feel the heat of an embarrassed blush stain my face. Fuck.

But then she trails gentle fingers down my shirt. Ohhh man. This is not good. But it is. But…she grips my belt buckle, and starts undoing the strap. At this, my conscience must stop her. Before my dick can argue, I clasp her hands in mine.

"We shouldn't." my voice is strained, hoarse. Her delicate brow furrows, and I prepare my argument.

"I…already lost control last night." Her eyes hold mine, and she frees one of her hands to stroke my cheek.

"Last night doesn't count." I feel my face question her, and she shrugs, "We were both way too drunk." She runs her fingers through my hair, and I feel the heat spread across my body.

In a much smaller voice, she adds, "That's the only reason you came back. Because you were really drunk."

She silences my immediate protest with a single penetrating look, "or it was a dream."

I sigh, and lean into her open arms, "I wish it were a dream." She stiffens, and her hold on me weakens. She won't look me in the eye.

"I wish it were a dream, because I didn't want to start us out like that." I shake my head, "Getting fucked up to cover up my lust for you was the exact opposite of what needed to happen, and I'm lucky I managed enough self control not to take you right then."

Her reaction shocks me, and pulls at something deep within me, "Are you?" She squints at me, "I'm not drunk anymore, Kiba. And if anything, I want you now, more than ever."

This small confession has me gaping, and it has my entire lower body tense. I'm ready to explode. I have to get up and think of other things, or else I don't know what'll happen.

Well, yes, I do.

I, gently as possible, roll her off of me and stand. Night has fully fallen.

"A-are you leaving?" The whispered stutter from behind me makes me whirl to her and give my most reassuring grin, "Not unless you want me to." She seems to relax.

I chew my lip, unable to tear my eyes from her, and the thought crosses my mind, "I haven't even taken you on a proper date yet."

Suddenly I see a flash in her eyes, and she gets up too.

"Then lets have one." She pulls a patterned quilt from the end of her bed, spreading it out on the floor of the balcony and I get the hint.

I take a few candles from their stands and bring them over to the quilt.

"I'll be back." She winks at me and disappears out the door. My chest constricts painfully. I really haven't even taken her on a date. And now, she's the one setting up everything.

I resolve to take her out on the best date of her life, even if I'm broke. It's the thought that counts, right? I look around. Her previous boyfriends probably took her on trips to Europe or helicopter rides or unbelievably expensive dinners. I tug at my hair, against the inkling of inferiority that threatens me. I'll just have to beat them in creativity or something.

I get a couple of pillows for us to sit on, and pick a few flowers off the vine that is my ladder to her tower.

Some defeat. I need to try harder. I should've brought her something. Like flowers. Or chocolate. Does she like chocolate?

She re-enters, and I'm quick to unload the stuff from her arms.

She brought a cutting board full of crackers and grapes and fancy cheese, along with ancient-looking wine and a couple of goblets.

Fuck. Rich-people snacks by candlelight. I seriously have my work cut out for me. All we have in my house is dried meat and knock-off brand crackers.

We sit down, both grinning wildly, and I light the candles. She feeds me a grape.

This is all too much.

"Wine, my Queen?"

She stares at me, blinks, then bursts out laughing, "I'd love some, my King." I love her laugh. I know it's playful, but those words on her lips have me throbbing.

I pick an especially juicy looking grape, and watch with unworthy eyes as she tips her head back for me to pop it in her rosy mouth.

It's all I can do not to jump her right here and now.

Her pale eyes, now glowing yellow with reflected candlelight, catch mine.

"So that gathering last night?" I nod, "Its already working." I feel my eyes widen at her, and she smiles wryly at me. I'm reminded of her shyness with all my friends, and I love how open she is with me; how easy these moments are between us.

"I ran into my father while going to the kitchens. He's livid." The delight that dances in her eyes at this is heart pounding.

"I overheard him saying that apparently many of our truck and train drivers, the ones getting produce into our monopolized grocer chains, they're leaving. Turning to the once infinitesimal opposition. Some are even temporarily working for free."

She tips back some of the wine. The bottle has got to be worth at least a couple hundred dollars. I follow suit, and it's unbelievably delicious.

I look sidelong at her, and shake my head, "That's amazing. We're finally getting results. It's the best feeling, knowing you can actually make a difference."

She smiles, and it's wistful.

"I want to know what that feels like." She turns to me, "I only got a taste last night at that gathering, but it's whetted my appetite."

Her eyes hold something I've never seen on her; an emerging foundation of core strength and pure power not offered to many. She has it. She can.

She munches a cracker, and gazes ponderously into the open tower view. "I want to be active in my city. You've changed me, Kiba." I stifle an incredulous breath. "You've opened my eyes and brought me to reality. I can't go back to the way I was." Her eyes are on mine, shining with the combination of moonlight and candlelight, and I'm utterly and wholly taken, never to be returned.

I grin at her, and wind my fingers through hers. I stroke her palm with my thumb. This is the most I've ever heard her speak. My heart, needless to say, is jammed up my throat.

It's early for this, this feeling I sense collecting deep in the pit of my gut: this feeling, which is an abyss in and of itself. I am too small to contain what will soon be its full strength.

"Do you know, Kiba," she says, "that last night was the best I can remember? In my life." I can't tear my eyes from hers. Her gaze is so profound, and I am endlessly enthralled in her midst.

"Surely not the best."

She nods.

I don't know what to say, so I press my lips to her knuckles. My turn.

"I'm still pinching myself." She looks questioningly at me, and I shake my head, "I still haven't quite taken it in. I don't know if I ever will."

"It's just," I search for the words in the night sky, then in her bottomless eyes, "so preposterous to think that _you_, you would go for _me_, who is…" I trail off.

"What do you mean?"

Her voice is tiny.

I shrug, and gaze at her glory over my shoulder, and a wave of that 'there's-no-way-this-is-happening' thing hits me hard.

"You're an heiress. I saved money for college for seven years of my life, since I was a kid working overtime whenever I could, and I'm barely hitting the halfway mark."

"Basically, you can get anyone you want."

This part's tough.

"I'm some stray mutt you met lurking around your balcony. Like a creeper, by the way." I grin, but it's a halfhearted thing, "You were crazy to let me up."

She half-giggles. I grimace. Its true.

Then, suddenly, she's straddling me, staring resolutely into my open-mouthed gape.

"Kiba," She's starting firmly, but I silence her with a desperately needed kiss.

"Why?" I can't understand it. It hurts to try.

"Why did you go for me? Why not some rich guy who can give you the world? Look at this place," I indicate to the steaming, dirty streets beyond her pristine balcony, "This is all I can offer you. It's nothing in comparison. Not with what you could have. Not with what you _should_ have. Not with what you deserve."

"Why not someone who can give you better? More? Like…" I stop. I can't go on anymore.

I stopped being able to look her in the eyes halfway through my spiel.

She grips my chin, bringing my eyes back to hers and holding them. Her innocent beauty is devastating. I will always look at her first and foremost. I feel this new, insane loyalty start to grip my heart.

"Like whom?"

I shake my head again. I shouldn't have mentioned it. It just shows my own insecurity. Fuck. I avoid her gaze, shifting uncomfortably under her weight, "Never mind."

"No." It's that same don't-you-dare-fuck-with-me stare, and she's already reading my mind through my eyes anyhow. "Tell me."

I'll say it, but I can't look at her. "Like that Uchiha kid." Or Naruto. Although he's almost as bad off as me, at least he has connects in Town Hall. My sister has struggled most of her life to become a veterinarian, and she's barely scraping by.

She leans back from me, and I dare to see her face. She's crestfallen, and that terrible fragility, that wilting opacity that suffocated her in his presence flashes across her face. Like she's trying to become invisible again. I grip her arms; bring her back to me.

"S-Sasuke?" The name is a whisper. It's her turn to shake her head. She sighs the weight of the world.

I meet her eyes, and I realize immediately it was a mistake. Hers are so full.

Full of darkness, sadness, and an overwhelming loneliness.

"You want to know why?" Her voice is barely audible, and I press my fingertips to her cheek. "Only if you want me to." Anything to get her away from that look.

"H-He was just…there. Always there." She grips my shirt, twiddling with the folds, "Being from similar… backgrounds, we were often in the same schools and events. My first memory of him was at my mother's funeral. I was six. I noticed him staring at me while I cried…he looked…outraged. He'd lost both his parents so horribly already." She nods at my reaction. Sasuke, an orphan at such a young age. In fact, I think I remember seeing headlines about their murders. They had died in front of his eyes. No wonder he was the way he was.

"I… used to get bullied… a lot. He would always be there. He would just watch." She shakes her head again, and I'm brimming with fire.

I would string the motherfucker up by the balls.

"That's why." She bites her lip, looking tiredly at me, "Its stupid, I know."

I pull her into a Kiba-bear hug, loving how she sinks gratefully into me. "Its not stupid. That fucker." I nuzzle her ear and neck, unable to get enough of her, even with her sitting on me.

Her delicate fingers run streams of fire after their touch: from my eyelids, down my cheek, my neck, to simply burrow lovingly into my hair.

"You want to know why I want you so much, Kiba?"

I'm pulled to her gaze.

"Because," Her eyes are tormented, "In a world of fake, pretentious, insufferably corrupted and false people, you were, are—_real_." She grins at me, and runs her fingers through my hair as if to make her point.

At this rate, my heart has altogether given up. I'm barely breathing.

She kisses my cheek. "You make me feel real, too."

.

.

.

.

* * *

**Hey****:**

**So if you're reading this, take a second and review please.**

**It literally takes about two seconds.**

**Love.**

**Bright Eyed**


	11. Eleven

**11: Sasuke**

**.**

**.**

**.**

That stupid motherfucker. Was it not enough for me to leave him once? I glare at Naruto's sunny blond head from my position on the one who looks weirdly like me's couch.

He seems to sense my gaze, because he turns to grin and wink at me. I feel a compulsory shiver down my spine, and curse under my breath. This isn't right. I can't be near him.

"I'm going outside."

The other two stare at me, and I see the conflict in Naruto's eyes. He doesn't know if I'll run again. I smirk at him.

But then he smiles, shrugs, and turns away from me. "Sure."

Fucker. I stalk into the inner courtyard and sit at the wrought-iron table set. It's a small table and paired chair set, intricately woven floral patterns molded in iron.

It's undeniably beautiful here. The house is huge, and entirely surrounded by thick, virgin woodlands. Apparently, the Sai kid owns twenty acres in every direction from the house. I smirk internally at the irony: such beauty from such dirty money.

I snort to myself, and inspect the age-worn brick walls of the inner courtyard. It's overflowing with plant life; they seem to seep out from the walls.

Everything living in here is brand-new and thriving, leafy and delicate and colorful. I snap the stem of a wildflower, leaving its sunny face to brighten the dirt.

Naruto and his equally stupid friends have no idea what they are getting into. He doesn't know why I left: that upon looking out his window early this morning I found an ink snake watching me predatorily, painted on the glass. I bet he watched. That sick fuck.

I washed it off, _his_ sign, while Naruto snored peacefully from his bed, where I moved him from the floor.

Orochimaru's one and only warning.

So I left, and let my brother catch me. Only to tell him to get his snake off my ass. Only for him to tell me Orochimaru wasn't his snake, rather more _my_ snake than his. And to simply wait. Patience, he says.

He didn't understand, either. No one does. It's because no one knows. I flick a dead leaf off the table.

Now I must wait for him to strike. I hate this helplessness.

I would gladly rather jump into a pit of snakes than be paralyzed by the knowledge that I will be pushed in.

I sense him behind me immediately, and am idiotically awash with relief that it's just him. We're alone.

"So now will you tell me what happened to you, and your connection with Akatsuki and this stupid fucking turf war?" He sits down across from me, leaning in, and his huge eyes penetrate the cold walls of mine.

I watch him for a long moment.

"Why are you so desperate to know?"

His eyes bulge at me, "You have to ask? Were you not seeing and hearing everything I was at that gathering?" He shakes his head at me, and I feel strangely like a chastised child. Of course I saw it all. I may have seen more than him.

"All those people, they've all been put through incredible strife because of the gang that _your_ brother owns. People are being tortured out of their homes and businesses, and you have to ask why I want to know everything I can about my enemy, and their reasons for invasion?"

He's so heated. I take him in with open eyes.

I sigh.

I meet his gaze.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything. Start at the beginning."

He's making this hard for me. He meets my glare steadily, and I realize his lips are inches from mine.

It takes all of my power not to capture them here and now.

I lean back in my chair, not missing the flicker of disappointment on Naruto's curious face. It helps me get over the fact that I'm actually and willingly telling him all this.

"As for my life, my parents were killed when I was five. I saw it happen. My brother was thirteen, but with the help of some financial string pulling, he managed to get the court to give him custody with servant supervision. He began running the business at sixteen, and I grew up alone." I shrug.

That part's easy.

Now it becomes difficult.

"At fourteen I ran away for the first time. This was directly after finding out the hard way about Itachi's more… undesirable endeavors, and the Akatsuki." My eyes, once roaming the intricate twirls of the table, catch Naruto's jeweled ones. He's entranced.

"That was the first time I met Orochimaru. This was when I, unfortunately, found out that the Akatsuki is quite far from your biggest problem." A frustratingly slow realization is born in his features. My tattoo is aching.

"He found me in the street. I'd been missing for five days, and had been stealing food from the dump behind his nightclub." My eyes never shift from his. "He fed me and let me shower and gave me clothes." I shrug.

"That was the night I lost my virginity."

He gapes at me, and starting slowly, building quickly, an enraged red rises in his cheeks. An unmistakable glint of jealousy creeps behind his eyes.

I silence his storm with a look, and to my surprise he catches on, sealing his rebellious lips and staring intently at me. His hands are fisted.

His voice is low, and incredibly controlled.

"Go on."

I watch him a long moment.

"At sixteen I realized what was going on. Orochimaru had been keeping secrets from me, trying to control me and keep me sheltered, and I soon found out why. That was when the raids started. I still remember the first one I saw. It was worse than my brother's playthings. He was ruthless and without direction; he did it for fun. The experiments…"

I can't keep on that thought.

"After that, I left Orochimaru. But as you can guess, he's not one to take that lying down." I tap the table with rhythm-less fingers.

"He's been chasing me ever since. He's the one who, every once in a while, gets some men to corner me one night coming home and try to beat the living shit out of me." I feel my nostrils flare, and grit my teeth. I don't tell him how they try to rape me, or the details of how I emasculate them. "Of course, they always avoided my face. Oh, and five have died of blood loss after the fights. Orochimaru never cared that I carried a knife."

Naruto's face is brimming, but I have to say I'm nearly impressed by his control.

"Why hasn't your brother had that motherfucker killed?"

I watch him impassively. My voice is practiced.

"Orochimaru and his empire, Naga Inc is one of Sharingan Co 's biggest international allies. Not an enemy the Uchiha family can afford to make. He's unaware of the more gruesome details of our relationship. He refuses to push Orochimaru about not fucking with Konoha. Frankly, it's better for the company if it does all just go to shit. Then he could own it all, and fix it to his liking."

At this, he seems unable to keep it in any longer and stands furiously, his chair screeching as it hits the ground, "Are you fucking kidding me?! You can't be serious. Your brother could have that pedophile skinned alive, and he hasn't done anything?! For fucking power?!" He's practically steaming out the ears, slamming around and fuming.

"Why aren't you more angry about this?"

He's glaring down at me, utterly infuriated, his tan face is a blotchy, irate red, and I can physically feel the pure rage radiating off him.

Because of me.

I can't stop it. Something sick and strange and ironic bubbles forcibly up my throat, and the next thing I know, I'm laughing.

Truly and freely and irrepressibly laughing my ass off. At Naruto, who is so incredibly riled up at something that happened to me so long ago.

I don't even know him that well.

Soon I'm wiping my eyes and the alien chuckles are dying down, and Naruto's staring at me like I grew an extra head.

He gapes at me, "I didn't know you were capable of laughter."

It has me smirking at him, "Well there's obviously a lot you don't know about me."

He glares imposingly at me, then releases a breath and sits back down. His eyes meet his hands, resting on the table, "Yeah, I guess so." His eyes search mine, and his breathing stills. Mine hits double time.

It's there, in his eyes. It's irresistible. I'm too selfish to care about pulling him into my mess. Right?

My body is leaning towards his, my breathing ragged. My reason is nowhere in sight. His eyes are fluttering at half-mast, and his lips are pouting an invitation.

Found it. My reason, that is.

I stand up and walk inside.

I avoid Naruto the rest of the day, opting to flee to the orchard in the estate's roomy backyard. I can't tangle anyone else up in all this. Nothing good could come of it. It would just get harder to leave this wretched city.

I munch on apples to pass the time. Orochimaru won't stop hunting me no matter where I go; not until I'm either dead, or chained to his bed. I need to start thinking on how I will bring down Orochimaru, without the help of my brother.

Nothing within the realm of reality strikes me.

Shit. I would be forced to play the waiting game. Ah well, I've always been good on my feet.

I pick the biggest tree in the orchard, and scan its massive trunk for openings. Finding an acceptable path, I charge the tree and, in one swift movement, I swing up to the first branch, then ascend to the second. I'm lost in the physicality of the action, the steady stream of oxygen in my lungs, and it's therapeutic. I don't have time to think about Naruto or Orochimaru or the thousands of hollow, enraged faces that filled the cavern last night. I'm just climbing in the sunlight. There is nothing else... right?

By the time the sun is setting, I've reached the tops of five huge trees, and I'm utterly spent. I drudge home, my feet leaden and my tattoo screaming bloody fire.

I'm in a worse mood than when I started. This always happens; I over think a situation and screw myself in the process.

When I reach the glass sliding doors, Sai sees me and unlocks it.

"Its good you're here, I was about to lock up for the night. We leave tomorrow, back to the city. We should move from place to place for awhile." Too bad it doesn't matter. I don't care enough to say it aloud.

He watches me warily, like a zoo handler in the exhibit with a cobra. He's a few inches shorter than me, but I can tell he's subtly sizing me up and looking for weaknesses. A fighter.

This is a process I've been through with each and every one of Naruto's friends. They mostly, other than that mutt, seem to respect me more by the end. They notice I'm trained, these gangsters. I snort to myself. The word 'gangster' holds such an opposing position to the reality of what they are.

For some reason, the good in the boy in front of me is now insufferable. I give him a curt nod and leave the room. I'm in the kitchen now. Rummaging around, I find a plate of leftovers, well covered and laid out.

For me.

That dipshit.

It looks… delicious.

Damn that blond son of a bitch.

I jam the plate in the microwave for a few minutes and in a similar time span, my pate is licked clean.

It _was_ delicious.

I feel my eyes narrow in distain at my sparkling plate.

I take my plate and utensils to the sink and rinse them before slamming the water shut.

I know what I have to do. It doesn't mean I can just lose it again. Keep it under control.

Bracing myself, I head to the room I know he'll be in, and getting there, I knock. It's too soft. With as deaf as Naruto is, he probably—

Before I realize what's happening, Naruto tugs me inside the room and closes the door quietly. It's my turn to be shoved up forcibly against the wall, dark phthalo blue eyes boring into mine.

"What the fuck is your _issue_, Sasuke?" My name lingers on his lips. It's now when I realize this isn't anger, but hurt. While his fists jam me painfully against the wall, it's all over his face.

I meet him with silence.

He lets me go, but I'm still cornered against the wall.

He shakes his head mournfully at me, "Look, we were both really fucked up last night, I don't care about that."

Something on my face stills him for a moment. He blinks, "I just want us to be okay." He shrugs, but it's there in his eyes. His hands are twitching.

Like always in his presence, I can't seem to be able to control my fucking face.

It splits into a long, wry smirk. He can hardly keep his hands off me, and he comes off so confident in the face of his potential rejection.

His eyes bulge at me, "What's funny now?"

I shake my head, and he frowns suspiciously, "You have the weirdest sense of humor."

This makes me chuckle, "If only you knew." But this makes him step dangerously closer.

"That's the thing, though. You don't want me to know."

I stare at him, incredulous.

"You are the only person I've ever told my life story to."

He stares at me.

The air between us fills suddenly, swelling to crush us both against the wall, and I can feel his heat, like a radiator, from where I stand. My whole back is pressed against the wall.

"Then why?" I think this is the softest I've ever heard his voice.

"Devil's in the details." Mine's to match.

This makes his brow furl, "What happened?"

I search his eyes.

"I got a love letter."

His eyes bloom huge, "Orochimaru?" That slow realization from before climaxes.

I don't answer. It's enough. He steps back from me, dispelling the insane tension between us. Fuck, that was…intense. I feel a shiver race down my spine. Again, damn it.

He's looking at me, his face lined, and his scars drawn taut with strain.

It hurts.

But it changes, on its own, and it's his turn to smirk.

He shrugs, "I can deal whatever he's got."

It's the smile. I've finally figured it out. It's his smile.

I've switched to autopilot again, crushed by my pure and long-cultivated hedonism. I step toward him, my back leaving the wall, "Can you, now?"

His huge eyes take me in, "Who the fuck do you think I am?" It's a growled mutter. I smirk at him, "Why, I don't really know, do I?" I'm ready to pounce, now beginning to corner him against the wall.

Now they search me, those eyes: full on pat down. It's his turn to size me up, but I think he's looking for other qualities than his friends were.

"I never knew either of my parents. I grew up in six different foster homes, got abused in most of them, and was absolutely insane because of it. I was in and out of jail at age fifteen, because they didn't think juvie was enough for a little monster like me." With this comes a grin, but it's empty. Then it fills.

"Then Iruka found me. I was hiding in his shop, like you were when he found you. He took me to the bookstore, and I never looked back." He shrugs. "I even graduated high school, and am lurking for ways to pay for college."

I can't look away from him. He…almost knew. "Happy ending."

He shrugs again, "I'll see. I'm still fighting." He's looking at me now, intently.

The vibe between us shifts once again, and a moment of silence marks an interlude.

He breathes softly. "I know you want me." I blink to clumsily cover my surprise at his brazenness, "So just stop this. Just… Don't over think it."

His brow is furrowed deeply, creating smashed little lines that shout his genuine concern.

For once, I don't let it go to my body. Instead, I take complete control.

I step towards him again, and this time I'm inches from him. His lips are waiting, impatient. I take my time. Slowly, achingly slowly, I rest a careful hand on his waist, the other tilting his face, his lips, to meet mine.

He moans into my mouth, and I deepen the kiss, our tongues meeting exultantly in unison.

This is different.

He, is different.

.

.

.

* * *

**? **


	12. Twelve

**Rating warning. **

**Also,**

**this is the last fluff chapter. I realize the plot has taken a bit of a backseat to the romance in some of the chapters, but measures are being taken to bring it back to the foreground .**

**Let me know whut y'all think !**

**Read ON and ENJOY. **

* * *

**12: Hinata**

**.**

**.**

**.**

As I gaze at his sleeping, peaceful face, I am again reminded just how much I've grown to feel. For him. For the living world. Most importantly, I've grown to feel myself.

I've known him for only a few days, but after last night… we did it his way. I didn't tempt him, and he didn't touch me past a kiss, and a little petting before bed. I slept like never before, warm in his arms. I feel amazing.

Judging from the light, it looks like seven or eight.

Next to me, Kiba sighs and curls a sleepy arm around my waist, his face settling near mine. I take the opportunity to steal a kiss. At this, his long lashes flutter to reveal dark pools.

"Good morning, Hinata." He smiles dreamily. "That's quite a way to wake up."

Something in his eyes has me excited. I smile shyly at him, going on my intuition, and bite my lip.

He raises his brow at me, and my heart slams up my throat. I feel the blush flood my cheeks.

We meet somewhere in the middle, quickly sinking back to the bed. He's gripping my waist with one hand, the other roaming salaciously around my breasts, squeezing torturously as sensation spikes down to my groin. I moan into his mouth and he responds heatedly, his fingers now skimming my nightdress up my thighs, then my chest, and finally over my head. I feel freed. I'm wearing nothing but lacy underwear. His dark eyes scan my exposed body slowly, drinking me in. I shiver at the lust in his gaze.

But first things first.

Sitting up, I grip the hem of his shirt and in one swift move whip it over his head. I need him so much it hurts. Fire lances up from my sex, and I press my hands to his bare collarbones.

He's so warm. I run my fingers through the light smatter of hair on his muscled chest, then down the ripple of his abs, ending in a deliciously defined V. He grabs me, pulling me into him, and captures my lips with his, melding me to him, then freeing me to moan as he lays me on the bed and trails kisses along my jaw, down my neck, to my breasts, mumbling "You…are…so…beautiful."

I smile coyly at him, not believing myself. The effect of his presence is alarming. I'm so…open. Me: in every facet of the word. Not a façade of polite mannerisms.

"You're easy on the eyes, yourself." I run my hands all down his torso, pulling him closer to me. He has to feel it, at this distance. The heat from my lower abdomen, that condenses by the second as he groans and I cup his ass, pressing his erection against my sex. I know he feels it. My hands are pushing him closer, and he finally grinds mercifully into me. I release a loud moan, and Kiba quiets me with a needed kiss.

"Mm, don't want your cousin in here again." He whispers into my throat, and I ripple out in gooseflesh as he nips the skin there. "Although," he quips he massages my breasts, "If it were up to me, I'd have you screaming." He grins predatorily at me, sharp teeth under flushed lips, and I pull him into a heated kiss.

Before he can stop me, I undo the zipper of his jeans. Moment of truth. He's occupied by my mouth, and I slowly lean back, straightening him out so I can better pull his pants off.

I try not to let the mischievousness touch my eyes as I run my hands up his chest to his neck, his pants as far down as I can reach. Suddenly, he grips both my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head, and whispers in my ear, "Nah-ah." It's a growl. I mewl.

He nuzzles my neck, still gripping my hands, and I wrap my legs around him in protest.

That's enough. I'm putting my foot down.

"You're teasing me."

He grins at me, eyes lit up, "Never."

I churn for a moment, then smile. He eyes me suspiciously, and I lean forward for a kiss. He's pulled in quickly, and with a tug my arms are soon free, and I immediately, my heart jammed up my throat, dive for his boxers. My momentum knocks him off balance, and with an arm around my waist he pulls me down, too. I land on top of him. But that's okay.

I have my prize en-hand.

"Fuck," he breathes, and it's a groan. "Kiba," I breathe in reply. When his eyes meet mine, something's changed. Something's grown: carnal, abandoned, brimming with desire. I hold my breath, and lightly move my hand, my fingers ghosting around him, to his end. He certainly looks near his end. He's so hot, and already large, he grows under my fingertips.

I lean in as he gasps, kissing his neck, "That's for teasing me." I grin at him, and his brows shoot up. He takes a breath, closing his eyes. I can tell he's thinking about this. I nip his neck to sway his decision. I know my face must be somewhere near cherry.

To my delight, it works.

His hand, deliciously rough against my skin, travels up my back, to my neck, to cup my face tenderly. His lips tip up to meet mine. It's slow; languidly pulsing from our lips, through my brain, down my spine, filling my heart, my entire body; this love.

I readjust my fingers around him and he takes a shuddering breath, gripping my back and waist as I begin to move, simultaneously pulling his boxers down. He's free, and he moans against my lips. I groan, something entirely internal and instinctual flows from me, and I grip Kiba hard, massaging the pulsing vein under his shaft. He stifles a cry against my neck, and a flood of electricity dives towards my groin.

Suddenly he flips us, hands roaming anew while I'm distracted. Not for long, I pull at him, and he whines deep in his throat, crushing me to him. I curse my underwear.

He runs calloused fingertips down my body, between my breasts, over my navel, to cup my sex. He silences my cry with his lips, dipping tender fingers inside. He moans, "So ready," and I gasp and look in his eyes, "Yes." He searches my eyes wondrously, but to my disappointment, shakes his head. I wish he wouldn't be so chivalrous, and yet it's his sincerity and goodness that makes me want him so. The paradox is maddening.

"Not now." He captures my petulant lips, "Now this."

His fingers move inside and I groan, gripping him harder and pumping. His breath is hot against the flesh of my neck.

This fire has nearly consumed me. I'm reaching the edge, his fingers swirling, pushing me further and he's the same.

I feel so powerful, a squeeze from me has him groaning, gripping me harder and thrusting those magic fingers deeper. I swirl my thumb around his tip and he gasps into my neck. He leaks pre-cum into my palm. I can barely, through pleasure-squinted eyes, see the sun rising.

I'm distracted once more by Kiba's ministrations, rubbing me in a mind-bending rhythm as I pant and try desperately to keep up. Desire shoots up and down my limbs, sending a shallow buzz of nervous electricity flowing up my spine at his wonton touch. I'm at wit's end. There is only our breathing, and the steady pulse of our hands and hearts.

"Oh, Hinata," He breathes, voice rough, and I shiver. He's at his end too, his entire body gone rigid, and I moan into his mouth. With it rushes out all my pleasure in a shattering white light, dispelling all my fears, my darkness, my doubts. There is nothing else in the universe; just our breathing, his hands roaming, and my blossoming power as he unravels loudly in my arms.

Our lips meet, drenched in morning sunlight.

We lay tangled for what seems like an eternity, basking in delicious afterglow. I never want to stir from my perch on his chest. Then his arms snake around me, gripping me like we're at the end of the earth. In reality it's only been a few minutes.

"Hinata," There's a new wonder to his voice. I smile shyly at him, knowing my face is still flushed from earlier.

"Yes, Kiba?"

His eyes search mine for a long moment, then he smiles and shakes his head. This piques my interest. "What is it?"

He chuckles at my excited curiosity. Then his expression grows uncertain. "I…think I love you."

I blink at him. Then my face is moving of its own accord, twisting into an utter and irreprehensible delight.

Unable to keep my hands to myself for very long, I tenderly push his dark brown curls, slightly damp from exertion, off his forehead.

I nuzzle his neck; running my nose along his jaw, then lean back to meet his eyes.

"I love you, too." His features light up like Christmas morning.

But then my face falls. I remembered where, and when, we were.

He nods, "I have to go". I slip off him so he can pull his pants up and his shirt on; all the while I enjoy the view. My thoughts travel naughtily over his working, exposed flesh. I know my cheeks are pink. He catches my eye and grins wolfishly at the lust in it.

"Oho, aren't you insatiable, my princess?" He takes his sweet time with the rest of his dressing, and his deliberateness makes me flush a deeper red.

Yes. It's true. I want him, still if not more than ever.

For example:

Here I am, that which was once wholly invisible, lying nearly naked and entirely wanting, obviously checking out this enigma of a man dressing before me.

How is this possible.

I can only come to one conclusion.

It's him.

But. What does this do to my own ability? Leeching his power is no better than being powerless. In fact, it's worse.

I frown.

He turns to me, and I try to change my expression; too late. He's caught me, and he leans concernedly across my bed's fluff to kiss my forehead.

"What's wrong?" The trepidation in his brow makes me feel bad for having disturbed this moment for my own stupid insecurity.

I cover it all with a sly smile, inclining to peck at his lips. "Nothing, just thinking about the rest of the day." He eyes me suspiciously, but finally shrugs and smiles.

I'm grateful when he carefully pulls my hand to his lips, caressing my knuckles.

"Do you have a cell phone?" I don't' know why I'm surprised at this question. "Yes." His gaze meets mine, and he's boyish, "My Fairest Lady; may I …have your number?"

I grin, and we exchange numbers. I feel so strange. His presence is a natural balm for me; he makes me see true color in life. However, with this new and growing paranoia of my weakness within his vast power, I'm feeling restless. I'm sick and downright tired of dependence.

The juxtaposition of these two have me desperately torn. I grip his hand as he helps me off the bed, and I keep my fingers intertwined with his large, calloused ones until we reach the end of my balcony.

I search his eyes, trying to convey my love for him through them. I can't say it again. Suddenly I'm feeling overwhelmingly shy, and my eyes meet the floor. I don't know why, but my face floods a blood red.

His fingers grip my chin, and he tips my face to his. His dark, sharp eyes capture mine, and I find myself throwing my arms around his neck.

I can't shake the feeling that things are going to change. Really, really change. I can't yet tell whether it will be for the better, or worse. Especially for 'us'.

So our lips meet, both passions raging behind the bindings of our separate skins, and dancing dangerously closely at the melding that is me in his arms.

I have learned, with him, to cherish the moment.

Perhaps that is why. I learn so much from him, all the time.

He releases me.

"Goodbye, Hinata. I'll see you soon. " He grins, revealing those bright, sharp canines I've come to love so much.

"Yes. Bye, Kiba. Be safe." I'm filling up on his face. He holds me close once more, with a chaste kiss, and is gone over the railing.

I feel momentarily dazed. I am now on my own.

The strangest thing: I'm not afraid. Apprehensive, maybe a bit. But I know I'll be fine. Not just fine, but great. I feel my power, and it floods my arteries with every intake of breath. I square my shoulders and begin getting ready for the day.

After a shower, a little mascara and blush, and a dab of lipstick, I stand in front of the mirror.

I've wanted this for so long.

I put up my sleek straight hair in a mid-to-low ponytail. Tightly gripping the tail a few inches below the band, I take a deep breath, shutting my eyes.

Finally.

I raise my other hand, and with my ancient silver scissors, shear off the entire end of my ponytail. My band falls loose, and I shake out my remaining hair.

My hair now at least two feet shorter, I feel weightless.

I run my hands crazily through my soft, thick hair, gleefully, and dump my shorn ponytail.

The ends framing my face, little longer than chin-length, my hair is slightly poufy and whipped up wildly. Resulting from my ponytail form of cutting, the back and bottom are shorter than the front ends. I shrug, for once liking my reflection. I feel something I've never really experienced: myself.

I pull up my chin, and head downstairs. On my way, I nod to various wide-eyed maids and butlers and silently mourn my life.

Neji stops me in the hall, and roughly pulls me into an alcove. His eyes are many things: angry, curious, demanding, controlled. I sigh at him.

"What have you done now?" He looks furiously at my hair.

"It was time for a change." I stare him down and shrug. "Past due, I think we both realize." I add in a low whisper. His pale silver eyes take me in anew.

He smirks, and I become conscious of a change between us. He seems to…accept me. I follow my intuition and smile at him, and he, to my amused chagrin, salutes me and allows me passage. I look over my shoulder in passing, and he's smirking interestedly. He knows where I'm headed.

I take a few calming breaths. I'm doing this. It needs to be done. It needed to be done last year. I stop at the grand oak doors of my father's study.

Clearing my throat carefully, I knock.

"Come in," I hear from inside. It's curt and impatient. Crap. He's in a bad mood.

I brace myself, and smile at him. His pale steel eyes are surprised. Of course he's surprised. This is the first time I've ever willingly approached him since my mother died.

His face is calculating. "Hinata. What is it? I'm very busy."

I take a seat in front of his huge, ancient desk. "Father. I need to discuss something of importance with you. It will only take a few moments."

He's excellent at covering his shock at my straightforwardness.

I bet he still hasn't noticed my new hair.

"Well?" He's glaring at me expectantly.

I take another calming breath. "I believe it's time you recognize that, at the age of nineteen, I have my Masters in Business Administration," I hurriedly banish visions of me alone, night after night, in my room studying to get ahead, "and that I am an excellent candidate to help run the company. I also think it reasonable to remind you that I am your sole child, and with that in mind I would like to put forward my wish to one day take the mantle of running the family company upon my shoulders."

This is the most I've ever spoken to him. This seems like a day of firsts.

He's scrutinizing me, like only my father can, searching in my eyes for the flaws of my soul. After a long few minutes of silence and my growing internal panic, he releases a slow breath.

"Fine, daughter of mine, I'll play along. Show your worth." He nods to the door, and I'm dismissed. I give him a curt thank you, and am gratefully on my way out.

I did it.

I can't believe it. This is happening. He's actually listened to me. I doubt he even recognized my voice before this encounter.

I stutter into the kitchen, and when I sit at the dining table a butler immediately confronts me.

He has a kind face. "Good Day, Miss Hyuuga. What would you like to eat today?"

Just as I'm about to answer, Neji sits across from me.

"Whatever Ancho feels like cooking will be fine, thank you."

He turns politely to Neji, whose eyes are boring questions into mine.

"The same." He snaps, and the butler scurries away.

When he's past earshot, Neji's inquisition begins. I brace myself.

"Now do you care to explain what the hell has happened to you, Hinata?"

I blink patiently at him. I've just discovered this power, and I'm not about to let it go. Not to him.

"I've decided I would like to be more involved with the company. There is too much being done under my nose which I disagree with to stand by any longer."

His glowing eyes glare daggers at me. My heart spikes.

"You and I both know that's not all of what I mean."

I sigh, my once bronze armor bending slightly with my exhaustion. It's been one hell of a day already. "Then you're also referencing Kiba?" I shake my head, "He has little to nothing to do with my decision."

It's Neji who looks speculative now. "Of course he does. You know this; I hear it on you. You're like a completely different person lately. You're not the cousin I know." He shrugs, and smirks cruelly, "I'm just making sure this isn't some faux display of confidence because you finally got off." I gape at him, blinking a few times to process everything. He was being downright nasty.

No holds barred, then.

"How did you meet the mutt, anyhow?"

An unreasonable fire fills me, and I'm angrier than I think I've ever been.

"First of all, _cousin_, hold your sarcastic, undeservedly insulting tone when you speak to me."

Power floods my veins. I decide to keep going before my nerve runs out. I try not to register Neji's utterly confounded expression.

"Second, Inuzuka Kiba is no mutt, he is… someone I care for," My heart is going to explode, "and you would do well to remember that. Also, no matter where the influence is from, I'm telling you now that this is how it is. I _will_ be taking my rightful place at the company, and it _will_ turn back to a salvageable direction, so help me."

I solemnly regard his quickly composing face.

"And lastly, Neji, you, rightfully, know nothing about where and when I get off, so try to contain your presumptuousness."

He's gaping like a fish, his twisted mouth opening and closing in outrage. He can hardly contain himself. Hell, I can hardly contain myself. My anger is still burning, despite my verbal reprieve.

He's finally caught hold of his thoughts; I brace myself for his infernal rage, however the butler, who brings us each a steaming platter of udon noodles and chicken, saves me momentarily. He gets the brunt of Neji's glare, too, and practically trips over himself getting away from the black aura surrounding us.

Neji leans in, dangerously close. Anger still burns in his eyes, but its coupled with something new and entirely past due.

Respect.

"Actually, Hinata, I do have quite a vivid knowledge of when and where you get off." He raises his brows pointedly at me, and I blush puce.

But then, rather than going on some blasting tirade about my incompetency and Kiba's low birth and such trivialities, he smirks at me.

I smile genuinely at him, despite my blush. He shrugs again, "You're human too, Hinata. It's still an idea I'm getting used to. But at least we're past our most bitter differences." He's referring to three years ago, when he nearly killed me.

I don't like to think about that day.

"Yes, of course."

"I think we'll work well together." Boy, Neji is a rollercoaster.

I'm emotionally exhausted, but I beam at him anyways, "I hope so."

We finish our meals in amiable silence.

I eat half my plate, and am just sitting back in comfortable fullness when my cell phone starts ringing.

It's Kiba.

I answer quickly, "Hello?"

"Hinata." It's a croak. He sounds awful, like he's been put through a blender. Something thick and suffocating clasps my heart to stillness.

They've found him.

All this time we'd been like honeymooners, ignoring all but each other as the world falls apart around us.

And now, its all caught up to us.

"What's wrong? What's happened?"

I just hear his ragged breathing, and something clatters loudly in the background, "… I just wanted to see…that you were alright."

"Kiba!" Me, the girl who was mute not three days ago, I am practically shouting. I get up and begin storming to the door, "Talk to me! Where are you? What's happened?"

"It was them. Fuck. This…this was a warning. To stop me. They know; they know that we stared it; the boycott. They figured out those who gathered everyone. I doubt it's just me they went after." He coughs, it sounds like he's wheezing, and my chest is completely constricted. I'm hyperventilating.

"Who? Who was it? Where are you?"

"It's okay. Shit. I can't… believe it. I'm okay. We're all okay." He sounds relieved, yet completely uprooted. Something big has happened. I hear barking in the background, and I immediately run for the door.

"No," I can't contain the anxiety in my voice, "I'm going there. Wait for me. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"No, Hinata-" I'm barely aware of Neji hovering behind me.

"Kiba." I stop him. He's not getting out of this one, "I'm going. I'll see you in a few minutes. And Kiba…" I sigh into the microphone, turning away from Neji. "Be safe…."

"Please, don't come here." His voice is low and raw and speaks of something horrible.

I shake my head, even though he can't see me, "I am."

I hang up.

I grab my keys and purse and fly out the door. Glancing over my shoulder, I finally notice Neji walking determinedly beside me.

"We'll take my car." His voice holds an authoritative calm that has me nodding gratefully. It would be hard to drive with all this in my head.

Rushing out, I can't help but fear the worst. One thing has kept me from breaking; Kiba is, at the very least, alive.

.

.

* * *

**(AN) **

**So, I received some incredible feedback on the last chapter, thank you Guest reviewer and Murcielago for your awesome, inspirational comments; they are faar more appreciated than you may guess. **

**Thanks again !**

**Love.**

**Bright Eyed**


	13. Thirteen

**13: Naruto**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Your house?" Sasuke glares incredulously at me, "That's the 'master plan'?" He rubs his temple, and I roll my eyes at him. He's been bitchy all day. Oh wait, I'm not surprised.

It's too early for him to be this ridiculous. It's barely nine in the morning.

"You have any better ideas, Negatron?" I think I see his eye twitch. It's fun to mess with the humorless.

"How about, get the fuck out of Konoha, and get off the radar?"

I shake my head. How many times have we had this argument?

"I will not just run. Sai already offered to help get you out of the city. As for me, I can't leave this place just yet."

He snorts that biting sarcasm that only he can wield to such damage, "What, let me guess, your work here isn't finished?"

I smirk at him, "Exactly."

He shakes his head, stepping closer in the shuttered afternoon glow of my apartment. The thin, weakened rays of sunlight flow over his body. "He already knows this place. He'll be here. Maybe not tonight, but he'll come for me. Maybe even for you." He's searching my eyes, his breathing irregular. "I…don't know what he'll do."

Last night, when we finally broke apart, each panting, he wordlessly went to his own room. This only caused the explode-y feeling building inside me to pressurize further. It was…strange. I'll never admit I was so disappointed. But at least this time I know why he wouldn't want to get too involved with me.

He doesn't want to drag me into all this.

But... what if I go willingly?

Now we're alone, and he's looking at me like that again. Subconsciously, my hands clench. I won't make the first move.

"Sasuke…" his black abyss eyes trap mine, "stop it," I glare challengingly at him, "Or do it."

It's my turn to walk away: even though I only go to the kitchen.

He, damn it, follows me like an angry, disdainful puppy. I glare at him over my shoulder to get him to back off, but he pointedly ignores me. He opts instead to wrap his long arms around my waist, spinning me, and he breathes hotly across my jaw. "Do what, exactly, Naruto?" His lips caress my name like a prayer. Obsidian eyes glitter darkly in the dim lighting.

I repress a shudder, and Sasuke notices the battle on my face. Well, he did make the first move.

"You know what." I, using all my willpower, turn away from him and busy myself preparing something for lunch; breaking his heady lure. Shikamaru and Kiba should be back soon.

He sighs, "Enlighten me."

I face him.

Looking deep in his eyes, I can't help but sigh. He really doesn't know. For being such a genius, he's so thick.

"Either push me away or don't, just pick, damnnit. I'm not one to be wiled around. I don't like to play games. Just want me or don't, I don't understand any of the other crap you're trying to pull." His impassive face betrays a hint of his surprise, and then the brunt of his battle.

"Sasuke, you call me names and say I'm annoying and shit, but you stick around for the after party. Then you dry-fuck me brainless at that party, and leave without saying goodbye. But then you tell me it's because you were protecting me. You tell me I'm the only one you've ever confided in, you kiss me like…like…" I shake my head, unwilling to finish that sentence, "And then you leave me hanging. You're still sticking around, even though your crazy ex wants your balls as a mantelpiece. Now what? What else, Sasuke?" I'm breathless. He looks…chastised.

Then smug.

"You call that fucking you brainless?" He snorts, "you haven't seen much, then." He raises an aristocratic brow at me, and I smack my forehead in frustration. GAH. This guy is intolerable.

His face shifts seriously again. "And I wasn't…I wasn't protecting you…" It's a low, rebellious mutter. I stare at him.

"Then why?"

He doesn't answer, instead stiffening and beginning to turn away, "I don't have to explain myself to you."

I whip him towards me, "You'd better fucking explain yourself to me, or stop fucking with my head, Sasuke. Don't lie to me."

His eyes close harshly as his name escapes my lips.

When he opens them, something burns inside.

"Naruto…You couldn't possibly understand."

I can't do much more than blink at him incredulously. "Try me."

As I repeat my previous words to him, he smirks.

"…Okay."

I breathe.

He grazes a tender finger from my temple, down the curve of my eye, across my cheek, to gently grasp my chin.

I feel this building. It's like a reservoir behind a cracked dam; ready to go at any moment.

I'm in his eyes. He is in mine. His breathing is ragged. It matches mine.

He said it: he'll try me. In many ways, I'm sure he will.

I've always loved a challenge.

Tipping my face to his, I relish in this bursting tightening across my chest. This thickly saturated vibe is his doing. This is his sign to me. This type of languid, melding kiss is how he shows me.

Slowly, oh so slowly and more tenderly than I thought possible of him, Sasuke brushes his lips against mine: back and forth, back and forth, hot breath mingling with mine until I'm gasping for him, sensitized lips sending bolts of lightning coursing through us both. He grips my hair, pulling my head back further until he finally gives in to himself, sealing his lips to mine.

I run my hands through his raven's wing hair. It's so soft, silken like his hot, moist lips. I moan into his mouth, and he opens his eyes and marvels at me for a timeless moment.

Then he smirks again, and cups my partial erection. "What will we ever do about this?" He whispers headily into my ear, and I grin lustily at him. "Whatever you want."

It's his turn to blink and smile, leaning to blow deliciously hot air down my neck, trailing kisses in his wake. I run my hands up his shirt and he chuckles into the base of my throat.

This guy needs to be on some kind of mood regulator. First he was bitching, then amused, then closed off, then he's horny, now he's chuckling and horny.

How will I ever hope to keep up?

Sasuke grabs my ass, pressing me to him in a move that has me moaning into his lips and he replies with his own when I suck his tongue and bite his lip.

I move to lift his shirt, and he immediately retracts as if he'd been burned. He's left me hanging, panting and half hard, again. I want to yell at him in frustration.

Instead, I tackle him to the floor.

"Fuck!" He yelps in sheer surprise, and I take the opportunity to pin him down.

"You can't be half-baked on this one, Sasuke." It's my turn to be seductive, straddling him and skimming my lips across his skin. I tug at his shirt again, and he flips us.

Now he's on top, pressing me to the floor with his weight. He's really not heavy as he should be, though. He should eat.

"Not this one." His voice betrays his stress.

I raise my brows at him. "I've already seen you." His obsidian eyes glitter at me darkly. Something indescribable passes through his eyes.

He shakes his head. "No. Not all of it. Not like this."

I take his face in my hands, kissing him for all I'm worth.

I'm thoroughly satisfied at the result:

He utterly melts in my arms.

My heart is pounding, and I feel my advantage. I flip us again, and tug his shirt once more. This time, I hold his eyes as I do it. His lips thin into a hard line. To my surprise, he doesn't stop me, instead exhaling slowly through gritted teeth. He's on fire. His eyes are, at least.

As it comes off, I think I hear Sasuke sigh.

I pull the material over his head, and warm to the unfamiliar sight of a ruffled, barely pink Sasuke glaring sulkily at me.

The pale alabaster of his neck now runs continuously down his chest, his broad shoulders, and I suddenly, eyes inches from his skin, see what he meant.

Up close, I see the tiny silver scars. These are remarkably thin blade scars, carefully traced in once unblemished skin.

My wide eyes meet his, and his crunch with disgust. At himself.

"He did this?" My voice is low and ugly.

He stares at me. His face is completely shut off; but I realize he's actually at his most vulnerable. He hates it. He hates himself.

I run tender fingers up and down his collarbone, his chest. His abdomen. They're everywhere, the scars. Some are bigger, less decorative and visibly more for pain. Some are raggedly torn. They all run in flowing patterns. They concentrate into a diminishing circle at his ribcage. Nearest to his heart. I know my face is twisted. I can't stop the feeling of rage and mourning that fills me at this.

"He was… kinky." He snorts, "Sadistic." He shivers, and I know it's of shame rather than cold. His face is deadpan. "He also enjoyed opium. It's a good pain killer."

I kiss his chest.

I ache for him.

I am marked by Sasuke's strangled gasp at this.

He pulls my lips to his, devouring my will with his desperate exploration. He bites hard, but this only drives more powerful shivers down my legs as I reciprocate. I run my hands everywhere I can reach, feeling the ripple of tiny lines under my fingertips, and moan my sensation into his lips. He would have nothing more to fear, for Naruto was here.

I grin stupidly into his lips, gazing through hooded eyes at him as he tears off my shirt. He runs his fingers up and down my chest and abdomen,

"What's funny?"

I grin wider, dipping to nuzzle his neck, "No fear, Naruto is here."

Abruptly he pulls back.

"I'm getting awfully tired of you doing that." I glare at him, just wanting him to stick to it. "You got me this far, already. Damn it, Sasuke, make up your mind—" His glare cuts me off,

"Fear what?" Shit. More issues. I'm going to get blue balls.

I sigh, "Orochimaru, I guess." His eyes are nearly betrayed, and I want to kick myself.

His voice is low, and void of emotion. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"You think I'm afraid of him?"

I don't answer. I won't lie.

His eyes grow outraged, then shut down in a wall of chipped black ice. As he opens his mouth I brace for impact, but he's cut off by the thunk of impending footsteps at the door.

Kiba and Shikamaru.

Oh, hell.

I dive-roll off of Sasuke and run to the kitchen, turning on the stove while he scrambles to put his shirt on. He tosses me mine, but it's too late. I see a bright ray of afternoon light and shove the shirt in my pocket cunningly, putting a bit of oil in a pan and rummaging for some herbs.

Shikamaru looks around for a second, eyes us both suspiciously, and opens the shades.

Blinding afternoon sunlight streams through the shutters and I squint.

"What were you two doing in the dark?" He raises a quizzical brow and stares pointedly at me. He already knows.

And the fact that I'm shirtless.

And our hairs are both whipped up wildly.

And we're both panting slightly.

My lips are swollen.

Fuck.

think. Think. THINK.

"I closed them 'cause the sun was heating the house up." I shrug, grinning at him, "It's fucking hot in here."

He breaks out into a slow, pitiless smirk. "Why, I'd say it couldn't be over seventy-five in here. And I'm wearing a monkey suit. Maybe it's just you?"

I momentarily forgot that Shikamaru works at Granny's office, which is kept unpleasantly frigid at all times.

Sasuke is glaring death at him. This only seems to egg him on. "Sasuke, is your lip swollen?"

Fuck, I might've bit him too hard.

Sasuke stills.

Oh, hell no. He's thinking…revenge. I stare imploringly at his back, but he doesn't notice.

An even more vindictive smirk grows salaciously on his chiseled, thin face. "Shikamaru, is it? Hm." He tongues his lip seductively and looks directly at me. "It appears so."

I blanch.

He, pushing me near death in shock, gives me a tiny, sharp grin.

"Funny."

I gape. I've lost motor functions. Mayday, mayday, we're nose-diving. We're losing it.

I'm losing it.

When I finally snap out of my horrified paralysis, Shikamaru is raising both eyebrows at me, shrugging. "None of my concern. I'm just here for my lunch break."

I smile at him gratefully. "Coming right up." I've never been happier about Shika's innate apathy and laziness. He's already figured it out, probably a long time ago, but that's what comes with having a genius for a best friend. Speaking of which-

"Where's Kiba?" He usually comes for lunch, too; it's cheaper than eating out.

He shrugs and levels the table with his bursting briefcase. "He was late to work this morning. Hana had him by the balls when I stopped by, so he's working through lunch."

I smirk my lack of sympathy. He probably had a …late night with the little princess. "Okay."

I quickly busy myself making something for them, all the while sneaking furtive glares at Sasuke. He ignores my anger and leers at me. That's his payback for the 'fear' comment, although I have a feeling I got off lucky with that one. He seemed so… lost. And angry.

I toss some pasta in boiling water. Shikamaru flips through paperwork, looking ready to blow his genius brains out at the mountain before him.

I decide on grilled chicken and pasta salad.

While Shikamaru contemplates suicide and I work, Sasuke watches me. His black eyes follow my every movement, and he seems completely obtuse, or more likely doesn't care about the fact that Shikamaru is now disdainfully watching him watch me. I sigh and try to ignore him.

It doesn't work. I can feel his gaze prickling my skin. Fucker just _has_ to make things difficult.

I turn to him and glare his impending, horrible death. He raises a brow at me, and I narrow my eyes. He makes no move of apology or even looking away, instead slightly superior that he got my attention.

I blow steam out the ears.

"Damnnit, Sasuke, go do something else. Stop fucking watching me." I hiss at him.

He stares at me further, and Shikamaru fades into obscurity, leaning further into his paperwork. His nose is really to the grind. Ha. I know I'm making it hard for him to avoid this one, and, fuck, I just can't bring myself to not care. I feel Sasuke's argument teetering on his tongue, and resign myself to change tactics. My glare turns almost imploring. Just…go. Please. I will my telepathy at him.

He frowns, nods once and goes to turn on the TV. I breathe a sigh of relief once he's out of sight, and Shikamaru looks shiftily at me.

"Don't ask." I warn, and he shakes his head, "Never planned on it."

After a few minutes of blissful concentration on only the task at hand, cooking something delicious, I'm finished and serving up three steaming plates. I inhale the glorious steam with pride.

I don't remember seeing Sasuke wander back to the room, but he's sitting peacefully at the breakfast bar. I'm glad he seems more interested in the food than he does in further embarrassing me.

When we finish, Shika customarily takes his plate into the kitchen, and it's my turn to look smug at Sasuke.

"I cooked: you two get to clean." I grin, "Don't worry, I didn't leave too much."

He looks… taken aback. I didn't expect this reaction. He blinks, and he's his old self, smirking haughtily at me.

…. He probably hasn't cleaned a dish all his life.

He stands, then leans languidly to brush his lips against the curve of my ear. This sends a twitch of electricity directly to my already teased cock. I'm fighting hard; and a blush. Ha.

I'm so glad Shikamaru is out of sight.

"It was _delicious_." His eyes are darker than I've seen them. I hear, rather than feel my breath catch in my throat. Fuck. This guy. How am I fighting an erection from three otherwise innocent words…? Or rather, how can Sasuke make the words 'it was delicious' become so utterly…carnal? Sexy as fuck, that's for sure. I peek largely at him, and his eyes dart to my lip. Damn, I was biting it. He smirks again and picks up my plate, carrying both our dishes to the kitchen. I'm left alone and horny, again aroused and mercilessly denied. Again confused as to the sudden shifts of his capricious moods.

I put my head in my hands.

What the fuck am I doing? How am I already so wrapped up in a guy I only met yesterday?

In the kitchen, I hear Shika finish up, and he walks out checking the time and unusually rushed. Well, for him, at least. "Damnnit, your tension has me off. I'm late." He packs up his stuff and I scowl at him.

"I'll see you tonight." He pauses to raise a brow at me, and I know I'm discussing this with him later. "Yeah, we'll be here all day." I shrug.

He rushes out with a smile and a 'later', and the door slams shut. I lock it.

We're alone. I feel his gaze at my back. I turn to him, and he's already walking towards me. We meet somewhere in between, crushing together like some kind of unstoppable fusion that leaves me wholly reeling and entirely wanting.

We break for a moment, both panting heat into the other's lips, and his burning coal eyes draw mine.

This is it.

Then, the door magically opens.

We turn simultaneously, to be shot with something through a metal tube by a man with glasses. I feel the dart sink into my neck before I can even gasp in shock. What is this? Where did it come from so suddenly? Instinctively I grip Sasuke, pushing him behind me, but then I have no control over myself. My knees buckle. I have no strength. I can't even speak. I yell my once-words at the intruder, but they're useless from the ground.

I feel Sasuke struggle and curse softly, with all he can manage, behind me. The man comes towards us, closing the door quietly behind him. He locks it. He's wearing a scarf as a mask.

His glasses hide cold, sharp eyes.

His void stare is the last thing I see before darkness drowns me.

There are noises. They sound familiar, but strangely detached and electronic.

My body is completely stretched. It's cold. I shiver.

My feet are barely touching the ground.

Now is when I feel the thick metal cuffs, dungeon style, that hold my wrists, suspending me a few inches off the ground. I open my eyes; it's dim. Horror and embarrassment and so many other things suddenly expand in me.

What the fuck.

I'm cuffed to a wall, directly facing a huge projector screen. It has a video on repeat. It's somewhere around the middle now.

It's of Sasuke…and me.

The night of the party.

Taken from my window.

An arctic chill floods me, and I feel sick.

I hear our cries, the audio just loud enough to distinct the heat in our pleasured groans and whispered private moments.

I look around; Sasuke is cuffed next to me. This is when I notice we're both completely naked. He's staring blankly at the screen, and faces me when I turn to him.

What.

I stare my shock at him. For once, I have no words. He's burning again; but this time it's so much worse. He looks aged, and exudes an utter and frankly frightening darkness. I shiver. His blood thirst is so forceful. It ebbs in ripples from him, and our eyes meet as our climactic moans fill the loudspeakers.

_He's going to kill him._

As the thought rings in my ears, the video begins again and I watch in dismay, resignation, and something else as Sasuke pins me to the wall, grinding deliciously into me. I hear myself moan gutturally, and maybe it's the cold, but I'm tingling.

It would appear Sasuke is too.

I finally work up the solidarity to speak.

"Your ex is one sick fuck." It's a croak, and Sasuke only presses his lips in a controlled line.

"I told you. Fuck, Naruto." His face is twisted painfully. "This is why—"

"Oh, I know, I know, damnnit," I interrupt him, glaring what I can at him, "Lets just think about how we're going to get out of this mess, and we can deal with him later."

I hope my answer derails him. I knew he had dangerous friends, and a good idea about his more dangerous enemies. I still chose to ride his crazy boat.

I look at him, but he doesn't look at me back.

We're silent for what seems to be an eternity, and I must've come at least five times since I woke up.

I'm slightly ashamed to say that, the video coupled with both Sasuke's and my nakedness, I'm aroused. And it shows. And so Sasuke is aroused. Which is, in itself, arousing.

What is Orochimaru playing at with this? Who comes up with this sort of shit?

I hear the thump of footsteps and figure out we're in a basement. In the far corner, I see a dark stairwell and hear the thumping grow closer. My eyes flick to Sasuke. He's motionless, eyes hidden by long lashes.

A door at the top of the stairs open, and I take a steadying breath. Here he comes.

.

.

* * *

**3**

**BrightEyed**


	14. Fourteen

**14: Kiba**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Oh, God.

A cough wracks me as soot gets caught in my throat. Adrenaline is spiking through my system. A thick brown dust covers everything, my ears are ringing, and all the glass in the shop has shattered.

Now she's coming here.

Fuck. But I had to call her. I had to know that she was okay; that I was the only one. I called Naruto after, to no avail. I need to check on him. Shikamaru answered, and is on his way to Sakura's. Then we need to find Naruto.

It all happened so fast. My head is pounding.

Akamaru whines, huge body crouched low to avoid the smoke, and I see he's dragging Hana. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I grab her, turning her over to check her vitals. She looks all right. Her heartbeat is steady, and she's breathing. She has a shallow, long cut along her thigh, but otherwise seems intact. When I check, it doesn't _seem_ broken. But I'm no doctor. I grab my once stupid apron and wrap Hana's leg, tying it off tightly; she shifts and cries in pain, slowly coming around. I sigh in relief, and feel something tickle my forehead. Touching it, I shiver. It's hot and wet, and I shudder at the feel of my own blood running heavily down my face.

I wince and gauge my surroundings.

The bombs had been placed beforehand; their thoroughness makes me sick. I vaguely hear the wounded whimper of dogs amongst the general roar of barking in the back, and, checking once more that my sister and Akamaru are fine, I turn to him.

He stares intelligently up at me, "Akamaru, find out who did this." He snorts at me, licks blood out of my eye, and dips his nose to press the ground while I jump up to check on the animals in the back. I love my dog. My vision goes dark and blurry, I stood up too fast; but I blink through it and stumble into the back.

The back room is foggier than the front shop, as there's less ventilation. The dogs and cats are wild and frantic in their cages, and I head to the most damaged first.

Those fuckers. They _would_ target helpless animals. I feel rage burn hot and searing white down my throat at the sight of toppled cages. They put bombs behind the cages, knocking over and injuring many of the more sickly animals. I'm afraid some of them didn't make it: and my heart wrenches when I'm right.

I haul body after small, limp body out of the more twisted cages, lining up the dead ones and securing and tending to the live ones.

There's nothing more I can do; and the thought guts me. I gotta look for Akamaru. Then get my sister to Sakura's.

I hear more glass break in the front, and the deadened buzz of the entrance bell.

"Kiba?" calls a frantic, high-pitched voice.

It's her.

I stagger out of the back. Relief floods me when I see her.

It's her.

She runs into my arms, and suddenly, with my nose in her hair, its not all so bad anymore. Her scent calms me like nothing else.

"Why did you come here?" I don't unwrap my arms from her for a second, or even give an inch. I just want to hold her like this for as long as possible. "How did you find me?"

She's stiff, pressed against me until suddenly she sobs heavily into my chest and wraps her arms around me. Her pale eyes squint up at me, lined with red and worry.

"You're not the only one with creepy tendencies." She gives a weak smile, and I half-laugh, half-dry heave. I shake my head. "This place is dangerous. I don't know if they'll come back, or—" The bell buzzes again, and Neji picks his way towards us.

"Where are the police?" His wan, effeminate face is coolly infuriated. I regretfully release Hinata, eyeing Neji dubiously. Is he serious?

I shrug, "They never come around here when they hear commotion."

I face them both, "I need to get my sister to help. She got knocked out by the blasts, and she's got a pretty bad cut on her."

Hinata takes this moment to blink at the cut on my head; her face grows thin with worry, especially when she finds two more of similar size and depth on my arm and side. I'm bruised all over, and I can't say it doesn't warm me as she fusses.

She searches my eyes pleadingly "Let me take you both to the hospital." Behind her, Neji nods. He's walking around the shop, inspecting everything.

I shake my head, "We can't afford that. We'll both go see my friend. She's a nurse, and will be able to see if hospitalization is necessary."

I hear a groan behind me, and run over to where Hana is struggling to get up. She's clutching her leg.

"Shit," she curses softly, "Kiba, give me a hand. My body's being slow." I grin at her, glad she's coherent and herself, so there's no real danger to her.

"Whoa there, Hana, don't push yourself. Let me." I grab her around the shoulders and knees, picking her up carefully. Her leg seems really painful.

"I need to call Mom. She can work out the animals." I nod, and someone hands me a phone. I beam at Hinata, who blinks palely at me and gives almost a smile. With Hana in my arms, I dial with care and put the phone into Hana's waiting hand.

She talks to my mom, and my eyes automatically find Hinata.

"Your hair."

That's all it takes; she blushes scarlet. "It was…time for a change." I examine her, but am cut off when Hana offers the phone back to Hinata and turns to me, "done. She'll be here, with an escort, in a few minutes."

I nod gratefully. "Time to go to Sakura's."

Then I see Akamaru's huge white body; covered in soot from the blasts, jog excitedly into the shop.

"Akamaru!" I grin at him, and he nuzzles Hana's outstretched hand. Then he licks me, and stares at me expectantly.

"Show me later, boy." He snorts his agreement and nudges Hana.

I look up, and Hinata's staring at Akamaru with huge eyes. I jerk my head slightly at him, and he woofs and struts up to Hinata, nuzzling and sniffing her affectionately. She pets him, looks at me, and her eyes are shining.

Her expression is mixed.

I adjust Hana carefully in my arms, and start towards the entrance. "We should hurry. Hana, I don't want you bleeding out."

She clucks her tongue at me, "You're the one covered in blood. Have you seen yourself? You look like you just escaped Jason." She grins at me, but I see the real concern in her eyes, "Seriously, how are you even holding me?"

I grin back at her, and shrug with her in my arms, "Blame it on the adrenaline." She's light as a feather.

Hinata trails behind us, but soon she catches up. Neji stops me outside, raising his brows. I watch him, but he doesn't seem so snarky today. Hm.

"Need a ride?" I'm about to reply gratefully when Hana stops me.

This time, it's Hana who raises her brows, "And who are you?"

Neji blinks, then smirks. I smile sheepishly at him.

"Hyuuga Neji, at your service."

Hana's mouth gapes, then twists angrily. She snorts, then struggles so hard that I'm forced to release her.

She winces as she puts pressure on her bad leg, but drags herself over to Neji.

Oh, shit. I hold my breath, but make no real move to stop her.

With one arm, she unceremoniously grasps his arm to hold herself up. His pale face is the epitome of surprise.

With the other arm, she reaches far out, and slaps the living shit out of Hyuuga Neji.

"That's for my _dead_ dad, you evil motherfucker."

His mouth is fallen open; face jerked violently aside, and his pale eyes are utterly uncomprehending. Then it clicks, and the realization spreads slowly across his face.

"November sixteenth, eight years ago?" He breathes. His vast, luminous eyes watch Hana, who's pointedly ignoring his gaze.

My lips press thinly, and something buried deep in me, at my very core, twists painfully. I don't like to remember that day. I quickly cover the memories that flood me. She looks ready to spit in his face.

Before she can, I grab her, swinging her back up into my arms and giving her a stern look. He was just trying to help. He was too young then to understand much about consequences. As was I.

I glance at Neji, "Sorry about her. I can carry her, thanks though."

"Don't apologize to _it_, Kiba. That son-of-a-bitch has worse coming." Her voice is harsh with her hatred.

A small, chilled hand barely grazes my arm.

"Kiba." Hinata. My chest stutters. She looks so... desperate. Her eyes are huge and more pleading than even this morning. To think, our blissful morning was only a short time ago. She looks at Hana, "P-Please. At least let us do this for you. Please, Hana."

She stuttered.

Hana glares at her, but thankfully doesn't argue or insult her. I don't know what I'd do if she did. Nothing good, at least. I wish I could gather Hinata up in my arms again, but I'm busy with Hana.

I nod at her, as Hana gives no answer. She looks hopefully up at me, and I want nothing more than to touch her. She leads us to the car, a sleek, beautiful machine that purrs to life as soon as Neji clicks a glowing button. I order Akamaru to watch the shop till my Mom got there; I don't think Neji wants a big, dirty dog in his fancy car. Though the blood running off me may do more damage. My head is feeling too light for comfort.

Now settled safely to one side of me, Hana scoffs at the buffed, hand-sown Italian leather interior.

To my other side, Hinata seems small, and entirely occupied in her head. She's normally quiet, but this quiet is…different. Something's wrong. As smoothly as I possibly can, I trace her fingers with mine. My chest constricts as she reciprocates, but then to my dismay and consternation, she pulls her hand gently from mine, putting it in her lap. She's looking blankly out the window. I look into my hands, now curled dejectedly in my lap.

What.

I bite my lip, sneaking a glance at her, then focusing on the road out the windshield. Neji's pale eyes flick, every once in a while, back to Hana.

I'm extraordinarily relieved when we arrive. It's suffocating, trapped in a car with Hana's hate and Hinata's sudden strangeness. Neji is uncharacteristically venom-less and ghosts in the background. His eyes are distracted. He keeps looking from me, to mostly Hana.

I'm relieved to meet Sakura at the door. Shika called her, so she's prepared and ushers us all through the door. Neji looks uncomfortable, and utterly out of place in Sakura's small flat. I try not to look at Hinata.

Sakura beams at us, and has me put Hana down at the couch. "I'm so glad you're here." She presses her palm against her forehead, "You're…so lucky. You aren't even that badly hurt. They all-, you could've been—" her voice cracks slightly, and she pushes me to sit down. She avoids my eyes, and I know she's been worried sick.

She pats Hana's shoulder lovingly, and Hana smiles at her, "It'll take more than a few little bombs to kill me, sugar."

While Sakura busies herself with bandages, I look at Neji and Hinata. "Would you like anything? Water?" Neji stares solemnly at me. I'm glad when Hinata nods slightly, and jump up to get it for her.

Whoa. Blood rush. I step through it, but Sakura glares at me anyways, "Be careful. You should be sitting, too." I shake my head at her, "I'm fine, just dirty." And grin. That ought to keep her busy.

I look pointedly at Hinata. This needs to be worked out.

I stride into the kitchen, just happy to have something to do, and Hinata follows me.

I take a deep, calming breath while I fill the glass in the sink.

I hear soft voices in the other room, and turn to bask in her presence momentarily. Her eyes are immense and apprehensive. We glide towards each other.

Her chin trembles the slightest bit, and I immediately brush her cheek. It's like instinct.

"Hinata," It comes out barely a whisper, "What is it? What's wrong?" I search her eyes, but she shakes her head. A quick and apocalyptic thought squirms in me that she doesn't want me anymore. I wouldn't blame her; I'm apparently a dangerous man to be involved with.

Frustration builds, "I can't read your mind. I need to know. Let's talk about this."

Tentatively, soothingly I grasp her hand, and am awash with relief when she intertwines our fingers.

"You're still injured." She mumbles, her words barely audible. "You need to sit with Sakura."

I am unreasonably exultant when she doesn't stutter.

"I will, but I want to figure this out too." I push my luck. Her eyes are brimming. I brush her knuckles with my lips, "Later, okay?"

She nods, and reprieve bursts into my veins. I smile glowingly at her.

Suddenly, she winds her arms around my neck, and buries her head in my collar. I can feel her heart beat against mine. I can't breathe, but my arms grasp her tightly. They betray how much I love her.

I was so…terrified. More terrified then even after the explosion. I thought she didn't want me anymore.

Fuck.

I _do_ have it bad.

But I could have said that in the beginning.

We finally let go, and I force myself to not go for a kiss. Instead I smile at her, running my fingers through her soft, newly short hair. It suits her; she looks gorgeous. But I thought that about her long locks, too.

"I like it." I grin at her, and to a tidal wave of relief and happiness, she grins back, "Me too."

Then she gets that look in her eye, and I swallow, bracing myself.

I'm not going to lean in first, miss.

She sees it in my eyes, and pinks. How I love that blush.

Then another gleam grows in her pale eyes. My chest stutters.

She grips my shirt at the chest and invades my mouth, taking all I have to give and more; and utterly filling me in return.

With one sweeter peck to last, she's striding back into the living room, glass of water safely en-hand.

Oh, I'm a goner; that's for certain.

I fill myself a glass, chug it, and head back into the room as Sakura calls me.

"Kiba, sit down. I gotta check you over, too." I oblige, and she's soon hovering over my head wound. "How're you, Hana?" I ask, petting my sister's shin. She grins at me, "I'm contused!"

I raise my brow at her, and she laughs. "I'm just happy to be alive and with all my limbs."

Sakura clucks her tongue above me, "You may be too, Kiba, with the way this cut is looking. You're an animal, being so normal after all the blood loss and banging around you've gotten." She grins, and I wink at her, "You know it." I turn my grin on Hinata, and she blushes. Sakura raises an eyebrow at me and smirks.

I'm glad when my head starts to pulse less ominously.

She moves on to my arms, tending to several gashes there, and I have to peel off my shirt for her to tend to my back and side. Sakura glances at Hinata's beet red face and leers silently at me. I beat down a flush.

"Alright. You're no longer in any danger of bleeding out, but you should take a shower. You're covered in blood." She wrinkles her nose at me, and I nod, smiling sheepishly. "Ino and Tenten should be back eventually; they're getting groceries. Hana, you can rest in my room for a while." I start to help Hana up, but am beat to it by none other than Neji.

I quickly cover my gape. Hana is not so courteous. She glares at him darkly, accusingly, before 'harrumphing' emphatically and struggling to get up herself.

I don't go to help her, but that's because Neji insists. "Just…let me..." He whispers to her so lowly, I can hardly hear. But she barely lets him support her while she struggles into the other room. I look at Hinata, and she's already facing me.

It's in her eyes. I gulp.

"Aright then, Sakura, I'm going to the shower." She nods, "There's a towel in the linen closet. I'll wash your jeans and find a shirt for you while you're in there." I smile at her, thank her, and head into the bathroom.

I never felt better after a shower. My mind is all wrapped up. There's just so much going on in there, it's like there's no room for any finished thought.

Toweling off in Tenten's room, I wrap it around me and opt to look casually around the room while my pants and boxers are in the dryer. I barely hear the door open and close behind me.

I whip to find Hinata smiling sheepishly at me, looking my nearly naked, and still dripping form up and down. Her cheeks are beyond flushed.

Oh, hello.

Fuck. I'm not strong enough to get her off my trail now. I want, no, need her too much.

I grin predatorily at her, and she visibly shivers.

"Naughty girl, can't you see I'm naked?" I whisper at her as she draws closer. She swallows, and flutters her lashes at me, "Oh my, almost, aren't you?" Her fingers brush the towel, which loosens threateningly.

My nostrils flare and heat courses through me. She's playful. I'm just glad we've managed to put that strangeness behind us. "Mm, still insatiable, my princess?" I run the tip of my nose along her jaw, and she grips my arms.

She's distracted by the now visible, cleaned gashes that mark my skin. They'll make some nasty scars.

When she looks at me again, her eyes are too full to bear.

I distract her again by brushing my lips across hers.

Everything swirling maddeningly in my head seems to slow, even stop when we touch. Her breath is hot against my skin, and in a second she's pressed in my arms. Her lips are plump in my teeth, and when she moans softly I cover it with a kiss.

"The walls are thin here, " I mutter, and she blushes. Actually, I'm pretty sure I hear the dryer buzzing. Damnnit all. "You hear that?" She listens to the final disquieting grumbles of Sakura's ancient dryer. I grin at her full pout, and feel cold when she dislodges from me. She steps an innocent distance away and examines the room.

Hmm. She looks disappointed…. I catch her eyes, and send her a dark look: a peek into my raging subconscious. Her eyes grow wide as I growl, "Two minutes." I raise my brow and she blinks. And grins. "I think I can do that."

As if on cue, Sakura knocks. I wander over to open the door, and Sakura hands me my clothes. I smile "Thanks so much, Sakura." She grins at me. "Tenten and Ino are going to be pretty late. They went to Town Hall to help Shika and Mayor Tsunade figure out where Naruto is." My vibe falls below sea level.

"Shit. So he's missing?" She nods gravely, "and Sasuke."

I snort, "The Uchiha."

She raises a brow at me, and I'm immediately chastised. But begrudging. So he's an asshole, I don't have to like him.

But I still don't wish him harm. Well, not much, anyway.

She looks shiftily at me, with a ridiculous smirk suddenly plastered on her face. "Everyone's pretty occupied. And Tenten's not going to be here for a while. At _least_ a couple hours. Then she'll probably be helping me out. Even I'm going to be busy in the kitchen."

I smell her implication a mile away, and I narrow my eyes at her.

"Thanks." She grins evilly, and I shut the door.

…. And lock it.

* * *

.

.

.

**THANKYOU eveljung for your amazing review, and those others who have been supporting this story !**

**you have my love.**

***o***

**Bright Eyed**


	15. Fifteen

**15: Sasuke**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Orochimaru's bitter golden eyes watch me intelligently. His eyes are bright. Overly bright, I'd say. He runs the slightest of blades up my cheek, and watches fascinated as blood beads along it. He runs his snake tongue wetly across it, savoring the taste of my life force.

I glare him off of me. He steps back, but is only staved momentarily.

"Sasuke, Sasuke, " He admonishes me, his voice one normally reserved for closed doors. Well, these doors are closed. He narrows his slit eyes at me and walks over to where Naruto hangs. Drawing back his hand, he slaps Naruto's erection.

The blond gives a cry of mostly shock, and fumes violated at the snake before him. "You—You—" When Naruto doesn't have words; it's a bad sign.

"I'll fucking kill you!" He roars, "Don't you dare fucking touch me, you pedo-fucking reptile! You disgusting old fucker! Don't fuck with me, I'll shit you out, bitch!"

As Naruto screams and pulls violently at his harnesses, Orohimaru pouts, irate.

He strikes him with a closed fist, backhanded hard across the face. Naruto gasps, and fights for consciousness. I wince and electricity, adrenaline, shoots through me. I need to get out of these cuffs.

Slowly, making sure he's turned towards Naruto, I raise myself towards my cuffed hands. The guy is yelling again, now kicking, at full force. It almost makes me want to smirk at him. Of course he's a stamina freak.

I reach into the hair behind my ear, and pull out a pin. I've learned.

Now I really want to smirk; but I control myself and focus. I, gently as possible, fiddle and twist it in the lock on my cuffs. At the last moment, right before it pops open, I pause. Deep breath.

Orochimaru is worse than I remember him. In his attempt to live forever, he's constantly peeling and 'rejuvenating' his pasty skin and once-handsome face. On the strictest of long-life diets, he looks too thin and wiry.

He looks old; which means he's ancient. I grip my cuffs as he pulls on Naruto, who tries desperately to squirm out of his reach; to no avail. I bite through my lip, willing Orochimaru out of the room. I wouldn't have time to deal with him and get Naruto free before Oro's guards come running.

Blazing gold eyes catch mine, and he gives an evil smirk, "At least this little home-wrecker's cute. You have excellent taste, Sasuke; although I already knew that." I stare impassively at the wall. Orochimaru clucks threateningly, "nah-ah, Sasuke. You're not playing fair. You must never ignore me. I taught you that."

As punishment, he fondles Naruto again, and it's hard to keep from ripping free and tearing him apart. No. I have to think about getting us out of here. Naruto is fighting with all he has, and just keeps getting beaten over the head. I'm surprised he's still conscious.

Blood leaks from the corner of his mouth.

Then, there's a tiny sliver of light from the only entrance to the room. Someone wearing a cat's mask quickly beckons Orochimaru, and as he strides over angrily there are several scuffles upstairs.

The newcomer speaks with urgency, and proceeds to collapse down the stairwell.

He has a long, rough hunting knife in his back.

My brother points his loaded handgun directly between Orochimaru's eyes.

Shit.

I choose this moment to drop from the cuffs, quickly going over to where Naruto is gaping and free him as well.

Huge blue eyes capture mine, and I grimace at him. Making sure my brother is distracted, he, for a split second, presses himself into me and shudders.

Then we're looking for our clothes, and Itachi says his final words to Orochimaru.

"You'll never see the light of day again, snake."

And blows his brains out. His nearly headless body falls unceremoniously in a puddle of garnet. I don't mourn him. I feel nothing. Not even justification. It was too quick; too painless.

Naruto gapes openly at him, only his pants roughly pulled on, "Can you do that?"

Itachi stares impassively at him for a moment, then shrugs, "I can do whatever I want."

Naruto frowns, and Itachi sighs, unused to questions, and explains, "He just kidnapped my brother. We have enough shit to bury him a hundred times over." His deadpan face is dangerous, "He's lucky I wanted to kill him myself, and only have time to shoot him."

He turns to me, "There's a car waiting for you upstairs. I must get back to the office. We have a company to buy and liquidate."

He leaves.

Naruto turns his gape on me.

"What the fuck?"

I shake my head, and start walking towards the exit. For the first time in a long time, I don't loathe the thought of going home. I just want a shower. I'm sure Naruto does too.

"Come on," I urge when he makes no move, and huge blue eyes bore into mine, "To your house?"

I nod.

He hesitates, then half-smiles. "Alright. Anything for a shower."

He catches my arm before we can fully leave. "You okay?" It's a rough whisper. I can't do this now. I stare hard at him, and keep walking.

He follows me into the car.

Once inside, he asks the driver for a phone, and dials quickly.

His eyes are shifty as he waits for it to ring, "Shika." I hear relief flood the other side of the line, "Yeah, I'm fine. No worries. I'll see you all tonight…" He clears his throat, "…with Sasuke. Yeah. Bye."

He hangs up, and looks at me. Making sure the driver can't see, he brushes his fingers into mine and relaxes his head against his seat back.

I feel my chest constrict as I grip his fingers in return. That's all I can allow myself. I hear his breath hitch, and his slow exhale.

We ride in silence to the Uchiha compound.

When we arrive at the house deigned mine, the driver hands me a key and speeds off while I unlock the door and let us in.

I face the open air of my living room.

I never really realized the smell in here; like that of a hospital. Too sanitary to be lived in.

I head upstairs, to the only three rooms I actually live in: my room, the small servant's kitchen in which I only use the fridge and microwave, and a TV/ office room.

Naruto takes it all in like he's visiting a renowned museum. When we reach my room, he turns to me. Jeweled blue eyes lock mine in a death grip, and he murmurs, "bathroom?" I lead on to my large shower.

"There are towels hanging on the rack." I turn to leave, but a warm, calloused hand on my arm stops me.

"Sasuke." My name on his lips does things to me.

But this was exactly what I was talking about. This is what I warned against.

I shake my head, face stony, and his brow furls, "Don't even think about it. I had plenty of warning, Sasuke. I still wanted, want, you." My eyes are on the wall behind him. He grips my face and forces me to look at him.

"Stay." He whispers, and it's almost enough to have me hesitate. I step back, and his grip turns firmer. He drags me deeper into the recesses of my bathroom, and for some reason I let him.

I can't explain it; wouldn't even if I could.

He runs a gentle hand down my bare chest. I'm only wearing hastily dragged-on pants.

He leaves me cold for a moment while he turns the water on. As it runs to hot, steam billows from behind the glass doors. Naruto faces me bravely. He tugs off his pants, and fully exposed, steps closer to me.

My eyes follow his swing. He's half-hard. He tugs my pants off, too, freeing me.

"Sasuke." He mumbles, and of it's own accord, my forehead presses against his. My hands find themselves at his waist. He leads me forward, stepping out of my pants, and into the warm arms of the shower's steam.

Under the pounding hot water, I suddenly find him crushed unreasonably closely, desperately, in my arms. I take a deep, shuddering breath as I feel his heart beat steadily. My arms constrict till I'm sure he must be uncomfortable, but I'm unable to let him go.

He shivers into the heat of my chest, and whispers into my ear, "I felt so…dirty." He shudders again, and I run my hand up his spine.

"He's dead now."

It's as close to comforting as I've ever gotten.

He snickers into my chest, "You don't sound disappointed."

I bite my lip, hiding my face against his neck. "You don't sound too shaken up." But I feel a darkness grow.

"I wanted to kill him myself. He...touched you. Hit you." I grasp him impossibly tighter.

I shiver when his hands run to cup my ass, and he raises an impish brow at me, all bravado.

"You, _the_ Uchiha Sasuke, jealous?" He grins, and I revenge by gripping his ass to grind him against me. The friction of our hot, naked bodies rubbing in the steaming water has me trembling. He moans gratefully. Now we're both almost completely hard, crossing swords, He digs into my belly, and I into his.

"Never," I whisper into his lips, and he crushes them forcefully against mine. Relief floods through me. We're back safely. He is all I want.

The thought pauses me. No. I wanted something else.

I had nearly forgotten, fogged by Naruto's charm.

This is disturbing.

I wrap my fingers around his shaft, and he moans my name into my lips. I don't want to think about that now. I want to think about him, and his therapeutic effect. I can run from my life for a few hours, surely? I trail hot kisses down his neck, chest, stomach, slowly getting to my knees before him.

I've never wanted to do this before.

His eyes are wider than I've ever seen them, plump reddened lips gaping for air. He's panting.

I kiss his tip.

He cries out, pressed against the cold tile of my shower as gooseflesh ripples across his skin.

I take him in my mouth, swirling a skilled tongue around his most sensitive parts, eliciting delicious moans from him while his hands roam my back and shoulders.

I suck hard and he bucks into my mouth, crying my name and I feel blood rush into my own erection. My utter and practiced hedonism takes over.

I want him. So I'll have him.

He's near his end, moaning my name, caressing it with something frightening in his tone. I savor his taste, salty and bitter and clean from the shower. He quivers under my touch.

I let go, and he groans, frustrated. I quickly take his legs out, and catch him so he's blinking, surprised at me from my level. I scoot back, puling him with me so the wall supports his head and shoulders.

I kiss his inner thighs, and he flushes and whines, I smirk at him, "You'll want to be sitting for this one."

He pulls me into a heated kiss, and I release his lips to, looking directly in his hazed blue eyes, claim his cock again. He's loud, let go in his pleasure, and it shivers down to my own aching groin. I want nothing more than to be inside him. So entirely tempted, I run my fingers along in inside of his ass, fingering the ring of muscle there, spreading him and he's almost convulsing. It's time.

He's fast. I smirk inwardly, and give a mighty pull, scraping along him with my teeth.

"S-Sasuke—" He hisses between gritted teeth, and I brace myself. I'm going to take it. I want to.

Another first.

I close my throat around his tip, working him hard, and he yells his release, bucking into my mouth and shooting deep inside. I realize I was squeezing my eyes shut. When I blink them open, letting go of Naruto, I swallow.

I'm caught in blue eyes. He's panting, and there's something burning in his eyes.

I can barely stand it.

It twists me painfully, pulling something out of me, and I hate the feeling.

But then, he brushes my cheek so tenderly. The twisting gets worse, and he is too bright. I close my eyes.

Soft lips brush mine, and he slowly, achingly slowly, presses his lips to mine, healing something I hadn't realized had been damaged. And I realize the twisting was a setting back into rightful place.

It hurts, like re-breaking a bone to set it correctly. His tongue brushes my lip, and I give him entrance, he's cleansing my mouth, hands gripping my face softly.

Then he moves, and I groan in surprise when he runs his thumb over my swollen tip. He grips me, hard. I'm falling apart at the seams, in his arms as he palms me and moans into my lips. I'm ready, fit to burst.

Someone, soon to leave this living realm, pounds alarmingly at the bathroom door. I sigh, and groan into Naruto's lips as he draws away. He floods red, "Who-?"

"Leave it," I growl, interrupting him, and he resumes his ministrations, but he picks up the pace. I just want some time in peace. I feel it built, the pressure ready to combust out of me, and I manage despite the interruption of continual banging to lose myself in him, Naruto: pink lips, tan skin, blond hair, and blue eyes that hold such a burning sensation.

Love.

For me.

I grip him, and he captures my moan with his lips, taking me entirely, and I come harder than I ever have before.

We pant, wrapped hotly in each other under the pressurized water.

The door is quiet.

I smile into Naruto's wet lips.

Then the banging resumes, louder and more frantic than ever. I sigh, and Naruto's expression is a good gauge on mine.

We both get up slowly, stiffly, and I feel revived, despite the soon to be dead fuckers at my door.

I shut the water off, and Naruto tosses me a towel. I wrap it around me just in time as my bathroom door is kicked unceremoniously in.

I glower at Karin, who blanches like bleached flour. Her cropped red hair is freshly dyed, and she made sure to wear a lacy, quite visible thong for our first meeting in a week. Behind her, Juugo and Suigetsu shrug.

"We said you were busy. Obviously someone other than you here. That's why she tore down your door." Suigetsu holds his hand to his mouth, whispering to me too loud to be conspiratorially "We heard you two come." He grins, and his filed sharp teeth glint in the light.

I turn to all of them.

"Get the fuck out of my house, now."

Naruto gapes at me.

They all roll their eyes.

I scowl.

Orochimaru had caught them as children, like me. However, quite unlike me, they had all held an unconditional love for the snake, stemming from gratitude; a loyalty to the man who picked them off the street.

Then they met me. I made them switch loyalties, and now they follow me like lost puppies, claiming we're 'friends'. I snort.

Karin stares at me, not hiding her salacious imaginings. Then she glares at Naruto, who sticks his tongue out at her.

"Orochimaru's dead." Juugo stares at me, and I smirk. "Yes, I was there."

"Why didn't you tell us you were leaving?" She demands and I glare at her.

"Because I don't like you."

She snorts. Suigetsu downs a few swigs from a silver flask in his pocket. "Whatever man, I'm just here to leave a message." He smirks coldly, "Your brother _demands_ to see you." He turns and leaves. Juugo looks after him, but then turns to me. "Itachi killed him?"

I nod, and he shakes his head and walks out.

Karin looks at us both, then bites her lip, stares at me, and rushes out. I lock the door behind them and sigh.

Naruto smirks, "I didn't know you had friends." I glare over my shoulder at him.

"Yeah."

I stare at the chill white of my door.

"Friends."

I start to get dressed. He wanders over, and I throw him something that should fit.

"Where're we headed?" He asks, and I pull a shirt on.

"To see my brother."

.

.

.

* * *

**(AN)**

**So, the last reviews I got were amazing. Thank you so much, you motivate me to keep writing this story ! about halfway through it starts getting tough, and your comprehensive reviews just fuel my fire ;0 **

**I'll try to speed up the updating process !**

**Love,**

**Bright Eyed**


	16. FifteenPointFive

**15.5: Neji **

**.**

**.**

**.**

The absolute revulsion in her eyes silences something in me: something that in any other situation would be burning rage, venomous indignation, and wicked punishment. Right now all I can be is numb, and all I can do is try to quell the disgust that's growing in me, towards myself. I keep remembering it.

I was young, and for some reason my logic keeps trying to use that as a feasible excuse for what happened. For what I did. But something that reaches deeper than logic continues to shove the excuses away, and allow room for the disgust to finally take its place. I'd been ignoring this, forgetting this, for too long now. It is time to bring it all out in the open, and deal with it.

And what an ugly thing it'd become.

All of it, in all its violent glory, is sitting right here in front of me in this dingy old room: arms crossed, leg shattered, face fuming.

"Alright, I'm settled, now get the fuck out of my sight." She mutters. The control in her voice is impressive; however, I don't budge.

More like, I won't budge. Almost too close for consolation, I'm sitting in a remarkably uncomfortable wooden chair across from the bed she's sprawled on, and she keeps trying to inch away from me.

"Hana." I begin, but that glare cuts my head off. This kind of impertinence can definitely be called inspiring.

I try again. "Hana, look-"

"Ah!" She interrupts me, and I don't fight her as she stares me down with that look in her eye, "I don't care. Whether you apologize now or not, it won't bring him back. It won't change anything. So just keep your damned pride, get out of this room, and give me the satisfaction of never having to see you again."

Oh, so absolute.

"I can't do that."

I think my face has twisted into some kind of sickened smile. "Even if you don't need it, I need it."

She stabs me again, "Well the selfishness never quite ends, does it?"

I sigh. No one has ever spoken to me like this before. It's tiring.

"Hana." Her eyes have changed, as they bore into me now, "Stop it." It's a whispered plea.

"I can't."

She shakes her head, nearly brutal with the force of it.

"I have to. For both of us."

She covers her ears. "No. I hate you, your family, all you filthy motherfuckers, and I always will. No matter what you say now, or ever." She covers her eyes, "it doesn't matter. That kind of hatred doesn't just go away."

I press my lips, "I know."

"Still," I, in a move that is the most unlike me of all the things I've done today, or rather not done, grasp her small, fisted hand.

"I'm sorry."

**: Eight years previous, November 16****th**

They were blocking the entrance; huge crowds, roaring dully, with occasional shouts and much milling about. They were starting to smell, because they had been camping outside of a few days.

It was disgusting. They were disgusting.

I just wanted to get inside my own damned house, and here they were, making things difficult. It wasn't my fault my uncle was an asshole. It wasn't my fault that they hated me. And now, because here they were making life even more impossible than usual, it wasn't my fault that I hated them.

From next to me, Hinata shuddered and began whimpering, the fragile little feather that she was, and my irritation levels just skyrocketed. That happened damn near every time I looked at her, because she was a useless little bitch.

Even at her age, I had accomplished so much more, and with no whining. I was fourteen, had graduated high school and was three years away from graduating with my bachelors. She was 11 and just beginning middle school. Pathetic.

And she would be inheriting everything.

The fire of injustice, already kindled, rose to a full-on bonfire inside my chest, and I was angrier than usual. Much more so, in fact.

So when, as the guards made a path to the entrance for us, several men broke through then line and began running towards us, I felt nothing but sheer revulsion for them. When the guards tackled them, I hated them. I wanted them dead. And then, when some unrecognizable savage in the crowd fired a gun at us, three ringing shots, I felt no mercy.

For anyone.

Hinata screamed, blood tricking down her leg as a bullet grazed her. A guard lay on the ground, dying quickly. I fisted my hands, staring in the direction from which the shots came. The crowd, like a living organism, convulsed backwards, ushered back by several cooler-headed men.

People everywhere were screaming about 'where did it come from?', about 'who pulled the trigger?'.

As far as I was concerned, they all did it.

I wanted someone to pay for this. For all this trouble. For all the anger I held inside.

"He did it!"

For a moment I blinked, and realized the accusation had come from my own lips.

"I saw him. He shot at us."

The man at the other end of my pointing finger turned sharp, wild eyes on me.

Two red triangles stained his cheeks; this was how I'd known he was one of the rebellion's leaders. He had helped organize this 'event', so it was only right he pay for it.

Then, out of nowhere, suddenly blood was trickling from between his eyes. A shot stung the air.

A sniper's bullet, I concluded.

He collapsed, dead, that instant.

Then I was ushered inside, and the grand oak doors closed behind me.

Life went on, 'as usual'.

.

.

.

* * *

**Sorry this took so long, life gets really complex towards this time of the year ! To all those who reviewed this time, and the ones who do it nearly every chapter, this story is dedicated to you. You make this story worth continuing to write, so please continue your AMAZING support, and I will faithfully finish this thang. 3 3 3 Let me know if there are improvements you'd like to see, and I'll absolutely do my best. Constructive criticism is grrreat.**

**Love,**

**Bright Eyed.**


End file.
